The Hitchhiker 3: The Longest Journey
by TempestDash
Summary: Shego was not always named as such, and she was not always a trucker. Once upon a time she was Sharon Hedge, and her journey to become Shego is at least as relevant as the path she walks today. But how does Kim fit into that?
1. Stark

**The Hitchhiker 3: The Longest Journey**

By Adam Leigh

**Summary**: Shego was not always named that, and she was not always a trucker. Once upon a time she was Sharon Hedge, and her journey to become Shego is at least as relevant as the path she walks today. But how does Kim fit into that?

*** KP - - KP – KP ***

When Shego first met Priss Asagiri, she immediately liked what she saw. Priss was rough edged, refused to dress in anything nicer than a retro-thrash t-shirt and leather jacket, had a permanently bored look on her face, wore dark red contact lenses, and raced faster than anyone Shego had ever seen before. Their first interaction with one another was even civil.

"You Sharon?" said Priss, looking up from a racing magazine as Shego stepped into the immaculately decorated conference room that Sylia's team had been assigned.

"Its Shego now," said Shego. "You must be Priss."

"Must be," said Priss. "You came in on the Triple H?"

"Yeah," nodded Shego.

"Not bad," nodded Priss. She turned her attention back to her magazine. "My first bike was a Triple H. Be careful on the outside 'S' on the test track."

"Thanks," said Shego.

Priss pushed her sloppy bangs to the side with the back of her wrist. "Just don't touch my 916 and we'll get along fine."

"Fine with me," said Shego and went to wait for the rest of the planning team.

Within a month, however, things had soured a bit.

"You're a goddamn idiot!" shouted Shego, shaking her fist.

"Bite me!" snapped Priss and pushed a stack of papers off the conference table.

"Uh, guys..." said Nene Romanova, a short, redheaded eighteen year old girl with blue eyes that looked sheepishly between the two giants. "Can we just calm—"

"You're no better than the jackasses at the national superbike," continued Priss.

"_Every_ competition has regulations," said Shego, rolling her eyes. "You can't just let anything go, or you'll end up with nitro injected bottle rockets being ridden alongside old hogs."

"Hey, if you can hang onto a nitro boosted Kawasaki Ninja, I say power to you!" said Priss. She mock saluted to the imaginary rider.

"You just want to ride massive eight cylinder engines in every competition," said Shego. "Engine size and restriction on modifications are the only way to have a race that highlights _skill_."

"Screw that, you know it's only a matter of time before regulations are undermined," said Priss. "It's never about skill, is about cheating your way to higher horsepower and torque. So why not just admit it? If you can get it to run on two wheels with a single operator, then you can race."

Shego shook her head. "Nobody is going to respect us! We'll be looked on as teenagers renting time at the Speedway." She sighed. "I would have thought of all people _you_ would want the game to be about the rider's skill instead of some engineer's tricky cooling system."

"It _is_ about skill," said Priss. "I dare you to pick up some rider off the street and put them on my bike. You have to be able to ride whatever beast you build and that's not a walk in the park."

"Or you could put a gyro in there and make it easier," said Shego.

"Only if you want to overload your bike with weight and bulk of such a thing," said Priss. "It's a _motorcycle_ race, not a Segway race."

"You don't have to worry about weight if there is no _weight limit_!" Shego said loudly.

"You _do_ have to worry about weight because every extra pound affects your ability to go fast and changes your drag coefficient." Priss raised her hands in the air. "It'll balance itself out!"

"Only if the manufacturers are on equal footing," said Shego. "Which they won't be if you can get an advantage from a bigger R&D budget! We have to use the existing races as templates and go from there, we can't do this ground up."

"Oh, look at you all suddenly knowledgeable about this garbage," Priss said mockingly. "What the hell do you know? Have you raced professionally?"

"Have _you?_" Shego said quickly.

"Yes, I _have_!" Priss said. "2008 National AND World Superbike."

"Bull!" spat Shego.

"What the hell do you want, a picture? A blue ribbon? Look it up, _Sherbert_."

"What the hell is that?" said Shego with a raised brow. "_Sherbert_? Is that supposed to be derogatory?"

"You just know your obsolete Triple H ain't got a prayer on my Ducati 916."

Shego stared at Priss. "You did _not_ just insult my baby girl."

"I don't need to, it insults itself," said Priss. "What did you do, pull her out of a trash heap and slap on some green paint?"

Shego slammed her fist into the table and glared. "Don't you dare talk trash about my bike!"

"Or what? You'll lose to me in a race?" Priss scoffed.

"I'll kick your ass and then beat you in a race," said Shego.

"Hah! I see how it is; you have to disable your competition before racing them so your crap bicycle has a shot at them." Priss folded her arms and looked smug.

Then Shego jumped over the table at her.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Kim slowly dabbed at the bruise on Shego's forehead with a cotton swab, causing the latter to wince while they sat on the couch in their apartment.

"Easy," said Kim quietly.

"It stings," said Shego with a scowl.

"Yes, obviously," Kim made a small smile. "Let me finish."

"Fine," sighed Shego and held as still as she could while Kim replaced the bandages. "You seem pretty at home with this."

"You get pretty good at this sort of stuff when you're out saving the world," said Kim. "Not always a nursing station to run to in the middle of Mongolia." She paused and looked contemplative. "Or a roommate."

Shego blew a short raspberry at Kim. The latter laughed in response.

"What a lousy day," said Shego.

"Not having fun with your new co-workers I see."

"That Priss girl has her head so far up her own ass she can see her lunch," said Shego.

Kim cringed. "That's... disgusting."

"Also true," Shego said stiffly.

"Metaphorically," added Kim, hopefully.

"Whatever." Shego rolled her eyes.

"She made fun of your baby girl, didn't she?" said Kim.

"Feh! The punk," said Shego and it was all scowls again.

"Does she at least look as bad as you?" asked Kim.

The corner of Shego's mouth turned slightly upwards.

"Figures," Kim tried to sound admonishing but she had trouble with the grin on her face.

"I'll make her feel worse tomorrow," said Shego.

Kim frowned. "How?"

"We're gonna race," said Shego with a smirk.

"Is that a... good idea? I thought you said she had a huge bike."

"Power isn't everything," said Shego.

"It's a lot, though," said Kim. She finished with Shego's bandage and started packing away the first aid supplies. She had initially questioned all the materials when she saw them on the shopping list earlier in the month, but now she knew better.

"My baby girl has got power; she'll show that punk," said Shego.

"You're both kind of punk-ish, though, right?"

"We're not alike at all," said Shego curtly and left to go make dinner.

"Suuuure you aren't," said Kim, smiling. She put the first aid box in the bathroom and came back out to watch Shego cook.

They learned very quickly early on that Kim shouldn't involve herself in cooking anything other than breakfast if they didn't want to go hungry. Shego was a little shocked at how poorly Kim did during her solo attempt and even more baffled at how she managed to subvert their joint cooking session... of a salad.

"How did your thing go?" asked Shego as she turned on the stove.

"Nothing to speak of yet," said Kim. "Some interviews, some auditions, we'll see if anything gets past the point they try to validate my social security number."

"Auditions?" asked Shego.

"Yeah, there's a number of theatre troupes in the area," said Kim. "A few are looking for some help. I'm not really much on acting, but I'm good with a harness. Maybe I could help out with a Peter Pan production or something."

"Hrm, is that something you want to get into?" asked Shego.

Kim shrugged. "I'm a little limited in my options since I don't have valid ID or probably much of a history here. I know quite a bit about international law and criminal justice, but those are the sorts of careers people look for references on."

"How on earth did you get around before now?" asked Shego.

"I _have_ a driver's license," said Kim. "It's just not going to stand up to anyone running it through a computer. But for simple things, security checkpoints, basic identification, and so forth, it works." She shrugged. "Getting a stable job is a little more complicated than buying a bus pass, unfortunately."

"Yeah," nodded Shego absently.

"All else fails I can tutor," said Kim. "I was an excellent student and there appears to be a big market for high school and SAT prep tutors. I looked into it a little, I should be able to take a test and get certified without having to validate anything other than a mailing address."

"You can't work at Wendy's, but you can tutor children?" asked Shego.

"Hey, it's your crazy world, I'm just a guest," said Kim.

Shego just shook her head and tossed some oil onto her frying pan.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

"This is not what the test track is supposed to be used for," said Nene as she handed Priss her helmet. The brunette biker was sitting astride her crimson red Ducati 916 and casually revving the engine while staring over at Shego sitting a few feet away in a similar position.

"It's our track, we can use it like we want," said Priss.

"It's _not_ our track, we are only renting it," sighed Nene.

"From our own subsidiary," said Priss. "It's ours, and today we're gonna use it to race."

Nene sighed. "Please don't kill yourself or Shego. I kind of like her."

Priss pulled her helmet on over her head and then stared at Nene.

"I'm sure you're giving me a face in here," said Nene. She wagged a finger at the biker. "I'm wise to your games."

Priss shrugged and looked forward, revving her engine loudly again.

Shego only shook her head in response to Priss' spectacle. "She's going to hurt so bad when this is over."

"Or you will," said Kim, holding onto Shego's helmet. "Why do I have to be here again?"

"You're witness to my greatness," said Shego.

"I'm sure I could be doing something else today," said Kim. "Something, you know, productive. Aren't you three supposed to be working on the rules for some race?"

"This is part of that," said Shego.

"No, no it isn't," Kim said without hesitation. "This is you showing off your codpiece to the dominant male."

"I'm not the dominant male?" asked Shego, with a raised brow.

"I don't know, she's got the bigger bike," said Kim.

"Size isn't everything," pointed out Shego.

"Well, excellent, we've hit every sexual cliché now." Kim rolled her eyes and then tossed Shego's helmet into the woman's hands. "Don't get yourself killed, Danny."

Shego put her helmet and looked at Kim. "Do I get a good luck kiss, Sandy?"

Kim sighed, reached up to Shego, and then forcefully shut her visor over her helmet. She turned and headed over to the sidelines where Nene was already standing. She nodded to the younger redhead and then paused and looked at her closely.

"Wow, you could be my sister," said Kim, surprised. She held out her hand. "I'm Kim Possible, I don't think we've formally met."

"Nene Romanova," said Nene, taking the hand delicately and shaking it slightly. "I don't think anyone's going to confuse us for one another, but I was surprised how much alike we are."

"I understand you're a computer genius," said Kim.

Nene blushed. "Genius is probably overstating things."

"You're eighteen and working for a millionaire," said Kim. "I would guess you're not mediocre at what you do."

"I guess not," said Nene. "I don't, you know, make a big deal out of it."

Kim looked out at the two racers getting ready to ride. She folded her arms with a sigh. "Be proud of who you are, it's the one thing that's truly yours."

"And what about you?" asked Nene. Kim looked back at her. "What do you do?"

Kim sighed again. "I mooch off Shego." She looked down and shook her head. "Its gotta change."

"You live to together, right?" said Nene.

"Yeah, right now we do," said Kim. "It's a long story, but I was hitchhiking across the country and Shego picked me up. We hit it off well and I rode along in her truck until Sylia offered her the job."

"And now you're here?" asked Nene. "Wow, you must have become good friends."

Kim smiled unevenly. "Yeah, we must have."

Nene looked at her strangely, but they were both then distracted by the sounds of the race starting. A tone indicated the racers needed to get ready, and a series of lights flashed red, then orange, then yellow, and finally green. Both racers launched from the starting line and flew down the straightaway.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Shego shifted again and leaned heavily into the curve, touching her padded knee into the pavement as she came out of the straightaway and into the first turn. She had spent most of the morning studying the course to figure out what her approach was going to be on each turn to make the most of her bike's power. There was no question that the Ducati would produce more overall power than her Kawasaki Triple, even with the modifications Shego had made, but her lighter frame and higher torque would get her through the curves faster if she tackled them right.

Unfortunately, shortly after the start of the race, Shego realized that Priss had altered her bike as well and it wasn't just outpacing her on straight-aways but she was keeping remarkable pace on the turns as well. Shego was still faster, but unless the course was all zig-zags from start to finish, she would have to come up with a new approach on the fly.

Pulling out of the second curve, Shego ran her bike hard to boost ahead and then settled in a position to squeeze Priss' bike against the outside edge of the track. If she could maintain the position until they got into the S-curve then Priss couldn't use her bike's extra power and be forced to play on Shego's turf, where the latter biker was confident she was more skilled.

The short straight section before the curves was a tense one as Shego constantly was adjusting her position on the course trying to keep Priss behind her or to her right going into the initial left turn. Neither racer could see each other's face through the smoked plastic visors on their helmets, but Shego hoped that Priss was going crazy.

Coming up to the turn, Shego grinned as she squeezed herself even closer to Priss, further narrowing the area the other racer could work with without backing off and taking another approach, possibly giving up a lot of distance. Shego wasn't sure what Priss' capabilities were, but she figured with the narrow turn coming out of the first curve, the Ducati racer would have to slow dramatically down to avoid running straight off the course or flipping.

They both flew into the first curve of the 'S' shaped section of track. They were side by side, only a few inches apart thanks to Shego's planning. They were both leaning heavily into the turn, but Shego's proximity made it dangerous for Priss to tilt too far or risk colliding with Shego's bike. Despite the risk, however, Priss was getting exceptionally close.

Shego grinned as Priss suddenly braked coming out of the first curve and fell behind Shego as she quickly threw her weight the other direction to turn right into the second part of the 'S' track. Priss almost vanished from how fast she was breaking and Shego was surprised, but didn't look a gift horse in the mouth as she tried to keep her speed up as high as possible while sticking to the curve.

Shego was nearly laughing as she pulled ahead out of second curve and almost didn't see the sharply angled narrowing of the track before her rear wheel hit the bumper on the edge of the course and then grass. With the dramatically reduced traction, her wheel began sliding out from underneath her and skidding to the side.

She had experienced sudden losses of control before and she immediately tried to compensate, pulling herself back up and turning into the spinout. She pulled on her brakes and tried to slow her spin but with her wheels only occasionally touching dirt, it wasn't making much of a difference. She turned her wheel harder into the spin to get back on top of her bike.

With a lurch from her wheel hitting something in the grass, Shego felt every shift left and her bike bucked suddenly forward, throwing her up and over the handlebars. She instinctively tried to keep hold of her bike to bring it back under control and only succeeding in getting her self thrown faster downwards when the wheels twisted and the rear end of the bike popped up and began to tumble.

The first time Shego hit the ground she felt all the wind fly out of her lungs and one of the side panels of her bike strike her arm. While airborne again, she had only a microsecond to try and throw out her arm to break her fall before she was landing on her shoulder and twisting like a top against her helmet. Her legs were smacked hard by something she couldn't see and she heard the crash of her bike again before hiding the ground a third time and bouncing off at an odd angle to one side.

Like a cartwheel she toppled end over end, expelling the remaining energy the bike transferred to her and eventually landed in a heap near the side of the track where she first lost control. It was a full second later that she heard the scraping sound of her bike siding across some other part of the course. Then... silence.

Shego felt heavy, wet, and tired. She knew she'd been injured, hurt in some way, but she couldn't figure out where. Was she only hurt in one place or many? How many places could she be hurt in? She heard a ringing in her ears and wished it would stop. Something was dripping onto her face inside her helmet, but there could be no way she could see the source and her helmet felt way too massive to lift with just her neck alone. She needed some sort of help, like a crane.

Beyond the ringing she could hear something else, voices, or screams. Something that normally would be urgent but now seemed irrelevant. Something was wrong, Shego knew, she didn't need someone else to tell her.

Shego squeezed her eyes shut to try and shut out the ringing, but then found opening her eyes to be too tough afterwards and decided to leave them closed. She couldn't see much except dirt and grass anyway, so what use was it to look around?

Eventually the ringing started to fade, for which Shego was thankful. In fact, everything started to fade, drifting into a midnight black oblivion which was very welcome.

***** End Part One**

A/N: Hey, Priss warned her about that second curve in the S...

Also, before someone comments, I know it's completely absurd that they'd still be figuring out the classes for the competition less than three months from the first match. But this is my fantasy world, where the Stingray Foundation holds enough clout that manufacturers would submit racers for a league game without even knowing all the rules or even the engine classes yet. It's not central to the story, so I ask you to indulge me here.

So where do we go from here, you might be asking yourself? Shego in an accident, Kim watching, and only a week into her new job. Any number of conflicts could arise from this.

This story was finished well in advance of this first chapter's posting, but if I get strong feedback, I may go back through and change things. So let me know what you think!

Next chapter on Wednesday!


	2. Arcadia

**2. Arcadia**

Voices floated through the fog...

"—keep pressure there!"

"Do we have a workup?"

"Take her to Dr. Cameron up in OR2."

"BP is dropping!"

"Is she going to be alright?"

"—compounded at the second lateral—"

"Please stay here!"

"But I—"

"-cannot have you in the OR!"

"It's alright Kim—"

"Can't just _leave_—"

"—only two chances for approach."

"—so there's no TIME!"

"Close that door!"

...then faded again.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

_I remember the first time I went the hospital. It's funny. I don't really have a lot of memories going back that far. I remember that time, though. I was only six years old and I was sitting in the emergency room with a bag of ice being held against my chest trying to ignore the pains every time I breathed._

_I had been hurt before, lots of times by then, though I can't remember any of them distinctly now. But that was the first time I had to go to the hospital for my injuries. The first time other people got involved in my problems. The first time I had to lie to doctors._

_My neighbor had brought me there. Mrs. Lamont was a far too kind woman, in her fifties and a housewife to a field engineer named Harold who worked for the phone company. Their kids had long grown up and gone off to live their own lives, one in Austin, Texas, the other in Corbin, Maine. I think they missed caring for other people and would always be willing to let me and my brothers into the house or play in their yard. _

_They had a swing set, I remember, old but made of steel and very durable. I loved feeling the wind against my face as I swung forward on that set. The thrill of pushing myself off from the seat when it was at its highest, and that moment where you hung there, defying gravity for a microsecond, before plunging back to earth and tumbling away._

_I learned how to tumble early in my life. Bending with the punches was the only way to survive._

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Diane Lamont looked down at the tiny girl sitting beside her and again tried to work up the nerve to ask. She didn't think she could be so intimidated by a little girl, and to be honest she wasn't, but the implications of her question could have repercussions. Those repercussions could come back and bite her, or, even worse, bite little Sharon Hedge even harder.

"You know, Sharon," said Mrs. Lamont uneasily. "I'll be waiting out here for you for as long as you need."

Sharon nodded weakly and then winced at the movement. "Yes, Mrs. Lamont."

"Take all the time you need, you don't have to rush," Mrs. Lamont continued. "Anything you want to talk about with the doctor, it's all right."

"Okay."

Mrs. Lamont frowned deeper. She had wanted to put an arm around the little girl, comfort her as best as she could, but when she tried before it just hurt. The poor girl's ribs were bruised and any movement like that was causing her pain. Mrs. Lamont didn't want to be part of any further agony the girl experienced and resigned her self to using comforting words instead. This was an area she wasn't terribly experienced in.

"You can be honest with the doctor," said Mrs. Lamont. "He's there to help you and he can't talk about anything you say to anyone else. So tell him exactly what happened so he can best treat you."

Sharon nodded again, gritting her teeth through the pain the movement caused. "I will, Mrs. Lamont."

Even her voice seemed beaten down, though Mrs. Lamont. It was tragic, in her mind, and she struggled with what she could do to help.

"Sharon Hedge?"

Both women looked up at the announcement from a nurse standing by one of the doors in the waiting area. Mrs. Lamont helped Sharon up off her chair and walked with the girl over to the nurse.

"Okay, Sharon, go with the nurse and she'll make sure the doctor looks at you."

"Okay," said Sharon quietly.

The nurse looked at Mrs. Lamont over her clipboard. "You can come if you'd like," she said.

"It's... better that she gets to talk to the doctor alone," said Mrs. Lamont. As much as she wanted to go with the child, she knew she had to give her every opportunity to feel safe to talk about herself without someone to report back to her parents.

"I'll be fine," said Sharon as she walked through the doorway and into the hall on the other side.

Mrs. Lamont touched the nurse on the shoulder lightly. "Please make sure the doctor... helps her." She tried to convey the thousands of words she wanted to say through passion alone but the nurse didn't appear to receive the message.

"That's what he's here to do," said the nurse with a kind smile. Mrs. Lamont couldn't work herself up to return it, and the nurse followed Sharon out of the waiting area closing the door behind her.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Sharon sucked in air sharply as the doctor touched her exposed and bruised abdomen. She breathed slowly and with controlled intensity to help mitigate the pain but it was very hard when someone was poking her directly where she was hurt.

"Sorry there," said Dr. Kevin Alistair. He moved his fingers around slightly and watched again as she winced at the lightest pressure. "Okay, I'm done now, you can pull your shirt down."

Sharon nodded and did as instructed. The doctor motioned for her to sit up.

"It doesn't look like it's broken," said Dr. Alistair. "But there is some heavy bruising on several of your ribs on the left side. I'm going to give you some medicine to keep the swelling down and make you feel better but you need to take it nice and slow for about six weeks. Are you parents around to discuss your treatment?"

Sharon shook her head. "No, my neighbor brought me here. I can tell them."

"They will need to fill this prescription for you by tomorrow, but I'll give you today's treatment now," said the doctor. "Can you swallow pills?"

"Yes," said Sharon. She learned that early too.

Dr. Alistair finished writing the treatment down on his clipboard and looked up at the girl again. "I'll have a nurse bring the medicine around. Here is the prescription you'll need to have filled at the pharmacy." He handed her a bluish slip of paper.

Sharon raised her arm to take it and then flinched suddenly when her arm went above her shoulder. She tried a second time and managed to take the paper. The doctor looked at her curiously.

"Sharon, can I look at your arm, please?" he said.

Sharon looked panicked for a moment but then reluctantly held out her arm out towards the doctor. He reached out and gently held her wrist while moving the arm in its socket. Sharon winced several times.

"It hurts when you raise it higher than this?" asked the doctor. Sharon hesitated then nodded.

Dr. Alistair reached out and pulled up the girls' sleeve and exposed a series of black and blue splotches up her arm and onto her shoulder. He traced the marks up into her shirt. "Please take your shirt off again," he said. "I can help you if it hurts to much to move your arms."

Once again there was clear hesitation in the girl's eyes before she nodded and held her arms forward while the doctor rolled her shirt up and over her head. The doctor stared at the marks going up the girls' back and on both shoulders.

"How did you get these bruises, Sharon?" asked Dr. Alistair.

"I fell," she replied. "Off the porch a few times."

"Did you fall onto something?" replied the doctor.

"No," Sharon said naturally; it was the first response, the doctor noted, that didn't have a hesitated pause before it.

"You fall anywhere else?" asked the doctor.

"Maybe," said Sharon. "I guess... around the house."

Dr. Alistair frowned. "These bruises by your shoulders are focused, Sharon. They didn't come from a fall. Did something hit you?"

The girl quickly shook her head despite the pain her ribs were giving her. "No. Nothing hit me."

The doctor kneeled slightly to look Sharon directly in the eyes. "Sharon, is some_one_ hitting you?"

"No," Sharon said sharply.

"You can tell me the truth, Sharon," said Dr. Alistair. "I can help you."

"Nobody is hitting me." Sharon looked angrily at the doctor. "I fell."

The doctor looked sympathetically at Sharon, and spoke softly. "Why did your neighbor bring you in today? Where are your parents?"

"Mom is working," said Sharon. "Dad is at the store."

"Do they know that you fell and hurt yourself?" asked the doctor.

Sharon hesitated yet again, her eyes darting around. "No," she said. "I fell after dad went out."

"How long as your dad been at the store?"

"Just an hour," said Sharon quickly.

The doctor bit his lip for a moment and then stood to write something on the chart. "We're going to need to talk to your parents."

"No!" Sharon said loudly. "I'm fine."

"They need to know about your bruises," said the doctor.

"No!" she was even louder this time. "You can't talk. It's not allowed! Mrs. Lamont said you have to stay quiet."

"Your parents are your legal guardians, Sharon," said Dr. Alistair. "Do you understand what that means? They have to know about any treatment to their child."

"Then I don't want your medicine," said Sharon. She threw the scrip on the floor. "I'm fine."

The doctor held up a hand to try and calm the girl down. She looked at him indignantly in response.

"Why don't you want me to talk to your parents?" asked Dr. Alistair.

"Because you're not supposed to," said Sharon.

"Are you afraid of your parents, Sharon?" asked the doctor.

"No," she replied.

"Then why can't I talk to them?"

"Because you're not _supposed to!_" said Sharon.

The doctor stared at the little girl, who looked so depressed when he first saw her and now had enough fire in her to stare down a doctor nearly ten times older than her. He relented.

"All right, Sharon, its okay," he said. He handed the scrip back to her. "Take this with you and get it filled if you can. A nurse will come by and give you some medicine and then take you back out to see your neighbor. Okay?"

Sharon looked suspiciously at him but eventually nodded and took the prescription again. The doctor smiled at her, a wide, fake smile, and then quietly left the examination room.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

When Sharon was finally escorted back out to the waiting area she found Dr. Alistair talking with Mrs. Lamont. This was unacceptable.

"What are you doing?" Sharon said, angrily. "Why are you talking to her?"

Mrs. Lamont looked startled at the outburst but the doctor was much more fluid in his recovery. "We're just discussing your treatment," he said. "Please remember to take it easy so your ribs heal and you don't develop complications."

"I'm fine," said Sharon, still glaring angrily at the doctor. He was clearly the enemy here, causing trouble everywhere. "I know what I have to do."

"That's good, then," said Dr. Alistar. He held out a hand to Mrs. Lamont. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Mrs. Lamont took the hand and nodded, though she kept an errant eye on Sharon. "Thank you for taking care of her, doctor."

Sharon stomped past the two conspirators and headed for the door. She knew where they had parked and decided to take the initiative and get out of the hospital. Mrs. Lamont quickly caught up as Sharon was walking across the service road between the entrance and the parking lot.

"Easy, Sharon, don't push yourself," said Mrs. Lamont.

"I'm _fine_."

"I know you are, sweetie," said Mrs. Lamont. "But you are still a growing girl and need to give yourself time to heal from your injuries."

Sharon turned her nose up at Mrs. Lamont's advice and marched in silence. The medicine she was given was starting to dull the pain in her ribs, for which she was delighted, but she knew something fishy was going on between that doctor and Mrs. Lamont And when fishy things were getting on, Sharon knew she had to prepare.

They reached the car and climbed in, Sharon emphatically without any help from the elder woman, and soon they were driving off. The silence was a blessing but did not last.

"Do you want me to be around when you tell your parents?" asked Mrs. Lamont.

"No," said Sharon. This was trouble enough already.

"Do you need me to help—"

"No," repeated Sharon. The woman was going to make things worse, didn't she see that?

"Let me at least wait with you until your parents—"

"No." Sharon wouldn't look at the woman, and instead focused on her window and the vista beyond.

Mrs. Lamont was finally quiet for the rest of the trip. Until they got back to the Hedge household that is.

"Is that your mother's car?" asked Mrs. Lamont as they pulled in next door. There was an old blue beat up mustang parked in the driveway.

"No," said Sharon. "That's dad. He's back."

"From the store?" said Mrs. Lamont, recalling the story Sharon had told her this morning.

"Yeah, the liquor store," said Sharon. "Probably the tracks too."

"He was out gambling?" asked Mrs. Lamont, surprised. "And left you home alone?"

Sharon looked directly at Mrs. Lamont and tried to bore into the old woman all the intensity and anger she could muster. "I am fine," she said simply. And then exited the car.

Sharon didn't both looking back after leaving the station wagon, she was sure the old woman was giving her all googley eyes and it was annoying. Sharon knew what was going to happen, there was no time to make up excuses, and no time to hide the evidence. She was gone when dad got home, which meant there was going to be punishment.

Herman, her older brother, was sitting on the porch when she reached the door. He looked bored at first but his eyes lit up with perverse excitement when he saw Sharon.

"Heeeey Sha-sha!" said Herman, with a disgustingly pleased tone of voice. "Where were _you_ at?"

"Out," said Sharon, hoping to only have this conversation once.

"Was that Mrs. Lamont's car I saw you get out of? Dad is gonna be sooooo pissed!"

Sharon snarled at her brother. "Shut up!"

Herman pulled out a crisp five dollar bill from his pocket and waved it in front of Sharon. "Look at this? Do you know what this is?"

"Your allowance?" asked Sharon with a sneer. Herman got an allowance every week to do... something with. Sharon didn't, she wasn't 'worth it.'

"No! I won this today!" he announced, proudly. "With _dad_. I bet on horse called 'Who's Your Daddy'."

"You're not supposed to gamble," said Sharon. "It's not allowed!"

"Dad says I'm allowed to," said Herman. "I get to gamble because I'm the man of the house!" He beamed like it said that across his chest in fancy letters. Not that Herman would be able to understand it very well given his reading skills.

"You're the booger boy of the house," said Sharon.

"I'm not a boy, I'm a man!"

"No problems with boogers though?" Sharon said smugly.

Herman glared at her with a scrunched up face of fury. With only a split second wind up, he swung out and slugged his sister in the shoulder. Sharon yelped in pain and crumbled to the sidewalk, her prescription flying out of her hand as she fell. She could see stars from the explosions of pain running up the left side of her body, the medicine she was given suddenly overwhelmed from the sensation.

"What was that?" a deep voice called from inside the house.

"It's Sharon, dad!" Herman called. He looked down and picked up the tiny slip of paper and studied it like it was a runic text. After a moment he started to smile. "She's back from the _hospital_."

"What!" yelled the voice. "_Sharon_, you get in here this instant!"

Sharon could hear the anger in her dad's voice and knew what was happening. She struggled to get up and could only move slowly to avoid crippling pain in her chest. She pushed past Herman and into the deep recesses of their house. Her father was sitting on the reclining chair in the living room in front of the TV that was showing a baseball game. He looked halfway gone already, stains of already forgotten beer and whiskey on his plaid shirt.

He sniffed indignantly and rolled off the recliner to stand looming over Sharon. He looked down at her like she was a bug, for surely that was how he thought of her.

"What were you doing at the hospital?" he demanded.

Sharon steeled herself as best she could. "My chest was hurting," she said. "Mrs. Lamont saw and took me to get medicine."

"_Medicine!_" shouted her father. "And I suppose that's going to cost us money again, won't it?"

"I don't know," said Sharon.

"And _why _don't you know?" asked her father.

"Because I'm stupid," said Sharon. This was the play, she knew the script.

"That's right, you're stupid. You keep causing us trouble, burdening us with your _expensive_ problems!" He pulled up his pants a little higher in some misguided display of plumage. "Do you think we just have money comin' out of our ears?"

"No," said Sharon softly.

"Did you see what Herman did?" asked her father. "He actually _made_ money today, you worthless leach. He turned three dollars into five. Have _you_ ever done that? Huh? No, of course not. You just make money _go away_ with your _medicine_ and _books_ for school."

Sharon said nothing. There was nothing in her script to tell her how to respond to this, so she stayed quiet.

"When are you gonna wise up?" asked her father. "You are gonna have to learn how to make money because your mother isn't going to do it forever, and it'll be your turn soon enough!"

"Yes, daddy," said Sharon.

"What was that?"

"Yes, Daddy!" she said louder. Her father stared down at her and narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think you are listening to me," he said.

"I am!" Sharon said quickly. "I am listening. I have to get a job, you said! I have to support us when mommy is gone." She quickly shut her mouth and her eyes went wide.

"What did you say?" asked her father. "Where the hell do you think your mommy is going?"

"Nowhere!" said Sharon loudly. "Nobody is going nowhere!"

"Do you think your mother would leave me with you two brats?" snapped her father. "You think she's got somewhere else better to go?"

"No, daddy!" pleaded Sharon.

"Of course not!" yelled her father. "That slut needs me just as much as you and your worthless brothers Herman and Melvin! And if you don't understand that then clearly I'm doing something wrong!"

"I understand, daddy!"

"Shut up!" screamed her father and slapped Sharon across the face so hard she fell to the ground. She began crying from the pain and her father just got louder. "Stop your crying!" His hand came down again, this time on her back forcing her further against the floor.

Sharon tried to hold her mouth closed to keep the crying from getting out, but her father noticed that too. He looked down at her with murder in his eyes.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

_I didn't see much of Mrs. Lamont after that day. My parents forbade me from ever interacting with her and I didn't want to risk the consequences so I stayed away._

_A few days later, some people from social services came by to talk to my parents, but they were smart. They knew how to clean up their act and how to show the right signs of a 'family household.' The bruise on my face from where my father slapped me had healed by then and they perpetuated the story of me falling to explain my ribs and back._

_I told the lies I was coached to tell. What other choice did I have? The consequences of not doing what father wanted were too severe to even think about disobeying, no matter what the worthless child services people said. They simply could not act quick enough to ever get a kid out of their home before the revenge started. I knew it, so I bit my tongue and endured._

_After the social services people were satisfied, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of crying and yelling coming from my parents' room. Something was going on, and dad was angry, and then mom was crying. There were yells, then slaps, and grunts, and I didn't want to die so I didn't get up to investigate. I knew better._

_After that night, mom never looked at me anymore, and became as cold as dad towards my needs. I never understood why at the time, but less than a year later the twins were born. I sort of understand now._

_God, what a life I've led._

*** KP – KP – KP ***

"-not responding to –"

"—with this much loss of blood I'm not sure—"

"—patch it up and focus on that first—"

"—here's a new unit of O-neg."

"We can't use that here, try—"

"We need to call her."

***** End Part Two.**

A/N: That has got to be the most heart breaking thing I've ever written in my life. I never want to have to get into Shego's Dad's mind again. It was one thing to write the outline for this story out and a completely different thing to try and write it convincingly. I don't really feel like saying very much more at this point, but this chapter should connect the dots on a lot of cryptic statements and breakdowns Shego has had in this series so far. Hopefully, by the end of all this, you should understand why Shego picked Kim up on the side of the road that night outside Columbus, and possibly understand why Shego and Kim need each other in a way other people could not substitute.

Things will get better from here. I Promise.

Next chapter is on Sunday.


	3. Shifter

**3. Shifter**

The heavy burden of silence in the waiting area was enough to make Kim feel like she was suffocating if it weren't for the fact that the whole situation she was in was draining the life out of her inch by inch. They had been given no update since Shego had vanished behind the mystical doors of the operating room over an hour ago, no indication of whether things were going well or not. No sign if they should be holding their breath or making... arrangements.

Nene was sitting near to Kim on one side of the room, the former paging through an ancient magazine that had taken up residence in the hospital sometime during the Carter administration. She looked mildly piqued by what she was reading, but not enough to not break out her cell phone every time it vibrated in her pocket and tap at it with a flurry of motion.

Priss was pacing about, occasionally watching the news on the 13-inch TV mounted in the corner of the room displaying CNN, and occasionally just walking about and looking at the magazines with distain. She'd already gone through them all and concluded there to be nothing of interest to her or possibly anyone else in the world other than Nene.

They had all talked idly before when they had first arrived mostly for Priss to assure Kim of things like 'this happened all the time' and 'Shego would be fine.' But that was over half an hour ago and the silence that had descended became so formidable that none of the three occupants felt they had the strength to break through it. Kim had tried, about ten minutes ago, but couldn't make more than a syllable before quietly retreating into herself.

The sudden sound of the door opening and the loud clap of heels against the tiled floor shocked nearly all of them and they turned to face the new arrivals in unison.

"What's happening?" demanded Sylia Stingray as she strode into the center of the room with Linna trailing her a few steps behind.

"She's in surgery still," said Priss curtly.

"Any news?" asked Sylia, looking at her watch briefly.

"Not since she went in," said Nene.

Sylia folded her arms and sighed. "What did it look like—"

"She'll be fine," said Priss, turning to face Sylia directly. The biker glared at Sylia, her eyes darting once in Kim's direction before settling back on her employer. "Don't worry about it."

Sylia narrowed her eyes slightly then nodded. "Very well," she said, diplomatically. "Can you explain what happened that led up to this? I'm told you were competing against each other."

"Feh," spat Priss. "It was a friendly race."

"Right, 'friendly,'" said Sylia.

"Hey, ask them," Priss gestured towards Nene and Kim.

Kim blinked. "It... looked friendly?" she ventured.

"They're a pair of _hotheads_ but there was nothing underhanded during the race," said Nene finally. "Shego slipped when Priss was way behind her."

"Way behind her, huh?" said Sylia curiously.

"Yes, because I knew to take that turn slowly _and_ I just want to point out, that I warned her about it too," said Priss. "This is crummy luck, that's all." She looked around uncomfortably then every so slightly leaned her posture towards Syila. "You know I wouldn't do this," she said softly.

Sylia looked at Priss with a sad expression and then sighed. "Yes, right. I'm sorry for the accusation," she said. She looked at Nene and Kim. "I'll make sure she's taken care of to the highest possible degree when she exits surgery. Linna?"

Linna looked up from the phone call she was on and held her hand against the receiver. "Already on it," she said, and then continued in a quiet voice.

Sylia looked at her watch. "Have you girls eaten since the accident?" she asked. A trio of noncommittal shrugs greeted her. "Let's take a trip downstairs then."

"But, what if—" started Kim.

"You'll know, trust me," said Sylia. She smiled kindly at her. "You won't miss anything."

Kim looked uncomfortably at her and turned to Nene for support. The latter shook her head to nothing in particular and stood up to follow Sylia.

"All right," said Kim eventually and joined the group.

"Coming?" asked Sylia to Priss.

"I'll catch up," replied the biker.

Sylia nodded and then headed out of the waiting area, tapping Linna on the shoulder as they walked past. The suited aide gave a single nod in response and lingered in the waiting room as the rest of the group departed.

Priss stared at Linna intensely, but the woman barely acknowledged her. After a few minutes of mentally willing Linna to leave, Priss growled loudly and turned her back on the snoop.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

"It just looked so awful," said Nene, staring at her turkey sandwich.

"Don't think about it," said Sylia. "Everything will be fine." She turned to Kim. "How is your sandwich?"

"Fine," said Kim. "Better than what they serve at Pilot gas stations."

"I would hope so," said Sylia. "If we have to be here for a while I'll have Linna send out for some better food though."

"Don't bother," said Kim in a dreary voice.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Sylia said.

Kim looked angrily up at Sylia. "How do you know that? Huh? You a surgeon too?"

Sylia shook her head. "I've spent my time in hospitals. There's an odd cadence to them. I don't think Shego has anything to worry about." She pointed at Kim's sandwich. "I'm more concerned about you if you stop taking care of yourself out of worry."

Kim stared at her sandwich as if it were a Rubik's Cube. She spoke softly, "She's just supposed to be better than this."

"Hmm?" said Sylia.

Kim swallowed and blinked several times. "The Shego I know is indestructible. Time and again she's bounced back from the toughest defeat to be annoying again. I just... can't... reconcile that with this. Everything in my head tells me this shouldn't be happening. It can't be real."

Sylia and Nene looked at Kim as she tried to take a small bite from her sandwich. "I didn't know you knew her for so long," said Nene.

Kim shook her head. "I haven't."

"Then—"

"I can't explain it," said Kim without looking up. "Sometimes you just _know_ a person, even when you've only met them briefly. I _know_ Shego, and she's better than this."

"Nobody is better than a wipeout on their bike," said Sylia. "But she'll be fine. You can trust me."

Kim looked up at Sylia and studied her face. It seemed so honest for a change. It was as if Kim could see through the mask caught a glimmer of a real person behind the bizarre corporate image.

Or maybe it was just another mask layered on the first.

"We'll see," said Kim.

Linna walked up at that moment with Priss a few steps behind. The latter had her hands in her jacket and looked irritated but quiet. "I've arranged for a neurologist to fly down from the Mayo Clinic and take a look at Ms. Hedge's scans after she comes out of surgery to make sure there's no damage. She's supposedly one of the best in the country."

"Thank you," nodded Sylia.

"Also, Ms. Asagiri here is feeling guilty."

"Screw you!" spat Priss and stormed off again. The quartet of women watched her push an empty table out of her way and exit the cafeteria towards the front of the Hospital.

"Must you do that?" asked Sylia.

"Of course not," said Linna, clinically. "Is there anything else, Ms. Stingray?"

Sylia rolled her eyes and then shook her head. Linna bowed and headed back towards the operating rooms.

"Does anyone who works for you get along?" asked Kim.

"Why? Are you looking for a job?" teased Sylia.

"I doubt even you would have room for an ex-cheerleader with no degree or job history," said Kim with a sigh.

"Actually, that's pretty much the qualifications that Linna had," said Sylia.

"I'm not interested in being your manservant," said Kim.

"_Woman_servant, and Linna is hardly my maid," said Syila. "I could find you—"

"No, thank you," said Kim with a politely raised hand. "I'd like to stay out of the circus if at all possible."

Sylia shrugged. "Your loss. As you said, there are few people willing to hire someone with no job history."

"I'll manage," said Kim.

"Well, to get back to your question earlier," said Sylia. "Nene and Priss get along fine."

Nene looked up suddenly as if she suddenly became aware a conversation was taking place. Kim looked over at the girl and noticed she had her phone in her lap and was reading something. "Er, yeah, Priss and I get along fine," Nene said. "When she's not busting my butt because of my race times, anyway."

"You do need to put in a better showing," said Sylia.

"I know!" Nene said, with a little whine. "I'm just too busy working on the software for your sensor package to spend time on practice runs at night."

"Sensor package?" asked Kim, her head perking up slightly.

Sylia shook her head. "Nene is working on a couple other projects for me apart from the Stingray GP." She stared hard at Nene. "_Some_ of which are government classified and _shouldn't_ be talked about in public."

Nene wilted. "Sorry, Sylia."

"You do government work?" asked Kim.

"Any sufficiently large technology company does," said Sylia. "That's the truth really about the world, government contracts are the perk of having influence. High dollar, reliable work, on some component or software that will likely be retired before seeing field testing. My father built autonomous systems for the military when I was a child and some of his contracts continue on to today."

"I guess I never realized the Foundation was such a big company," said Kim. "I'd never heard of you until we showed up at Elkhart Lake."

Sylia smiled strangely. "That's how my father preferred it. The average person doesn't need to know about the Foundation, except now as the amorphous parent of a number of smaller motorcycle manufacturers. The Stingray GP will obviously expose us to a lot more attention than that but it was a calculated choice. Our work is increasingly pushing us into new areas that we lack experience in. So I acquired some, and an obvious venue to demonstrate our talent."

Kim nodded and chewed her sandwich. There were lots of things about Sylia that bothered her and her slowly growing influence was quickly being added to the list. She wasn't sure why she felt so unsettled by the shadowy 'Stingray Foundation' but didn't want to leave her guard down regardless. Shego may have been taken in, but Kim wasn't going to let that stop her.

"I see you're uncomfortable," Sylia suddenly said. She had a kind expression on her face that only seemed slightly off, like she was struggling a bit to maintain it. "Is it the government work or the fact that I like to keep secrets?"

"Aren't those things one in the same?" asked Kim.

"The Foundation's government sector work is subject to oversight, you should know," said Sylia. "There's nothing going on there that isn't to their specifications. Trust me. The government can become pretty picky when it comes to delivering _exactly_ what they asked for, even if it turns out to be the least efficient option."

Nene looked up from her phone at Sylia for a moment but said nothing.

"Fine, then. I suppose it's the secrets," said Kim.

"Everyone has secrets," said Sylia. "I'm sure even you and Shego keep secrets from one another. But as a company my secrets can cost me money or can cause harm to come to my employees. So, yes, I treat secrets seriously and guard them religiously, because that's the only way to protect what I care about."

Sylia leaned back in her chair, one of few casual acts Kim had ever seen her perform. "But none of that needs burden Shego. She's here to race and work with the parts of my company I expose to the world. And when she gets back on her feet after today, I'll be happy to place her right back in that role."

"Even after—" started Kim but Sylia silenced her with a hand.

"Even you must see Shego's passion for racing," said Sylia. She waited for Kim's reluctant nod. "In my experience, you cannot keep people from that which invigorates them, they find a way regardless. On my tracks, on my machines, she will be the safest she will ever be."

"Hrm," said Kim, folding her arms. "That's the same argument Dr. Raven used to convince her to come here."

"Nigel and I talk frequently," said Sylia, smiling warmly. That, too, appeared genuine to Kim. "He knows how much I care for my team."

Nene looked up again and this time her jaw was slightly slack, as if in shock. She again, said nothing, and eventually went back to her phone.

"But I can see I'll have to prove it to you," said Sylia. "So feel free to follow Shego anywhere she goes, and see everything as she sees it. I don't mind at all, and I have a feeling it will put Shego at ease as much as it puts you. I may have many employees, but I'd like to think of her as a friend, just as I do Linna, Priss, and Nene."

Nene nodded to the statement but didn't look up this time.

"O...kay," said Kim, a little surprised by the offer. She could be skeptical and still be polite, she decided. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Sylia said, now back to the viper-like grin.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Kim walked out of the hospital and felt a chill in the night air. It had gotten dark while they were sitting in the hospital waiting and she hadn't expected it to be so cold. She shoved her hands into her pockets as she walked along the parking lot.

There was still no news of Shego, who had been in the operating room for almost three hours now. Kim was just about going crazy in there, however, and decided to take a walk to calm herself and get a change of atmosphere. The shiver she was feeling at the base of her spine, however, was making her think otherwise.

"Hey."

Kim turned suddenly to find Priss leaning up against the corner of the hospital, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the stars.

"Hi," said Kim.

"Any news?" asked Priss.

Kim shook her head slowly. Priss nodded in response.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Kim. She moved around to lean against building a few paces down.

"Same as you, I expect," she said. "Getting some breathing room."

Kim nodded, seemingly knowingly, though she could only guess. Priss had stormed out almost an hour earlier and Kim had embarrassingly forgotten about her until now. She didn't really know the biker girl all that well except from the stories that Shego told her, but she felt bad to have forgotten her presence entirely.

"Sylia?" asked Kim.

"Yeah," said Priss. She took a drag from her cigarette. "Who else?"

"What's the deal with you two?" asked Kim, curious.

Priss looked at Kim and sharply blew the smoke in her direction. "What's the deal with you and Shego?" she countered.

Kim waved the smoke out of the way but stood her ground. "She loves me," she said simply. "I love her. But I'm not gay."

Priss chuckled. "One of those things is not like the others..."

"Never had any siblings, huh?" asked Kim. Priss just frowned and looked away. Kim continued. "There are plenty of people I love without romantic intentions. I'm not sure why people have a problem with that."

"Must be great to have so much love to go around," Priss said. She leaned her head against the building. "Not everyone is born with such a wealth of it."

Kim was stunned into silence for a few minutes, just long enough for it to be uncomfortable.

"Sylia just... is too much," said Priss. "I like her well enough, but she just wants things I don't care about. She doesn't like not getting her way, so, you've seen how it's turned out."

"She approached you?" asked Kim.

"Sorta," said Priss. "Ran me off the road in her gullwing Mercedes, trying to act so cool. I nearly stuck a knife in her gut."

"Wow," said Kim. "Didn't she see you?"

"Oh, yeah, she saw me. She did it intentionally. Wanted my attention in a spectacular way." Priss shook her head. "She got it."

"I don't understand. How did she go from running you off the road to hiring you to run races for her?"

Priss laughed dryly and shook her head. "You don't get it, sweetie," she said. "You don't stand in Sylia's way unless you're aching for beat down. I'm surprised she hasn't been here hovering over your girl every day since she arrived."

Kim narrowed her eyes at Priss. "You don't strike me as the sort to give in to intimidation."

"Yeah, I don't. Not normally," said Priss.

"So why give in to Sylia?"

Priss at Kim out of the corner of her eye. "She was persuasive." The redhead continued staring. "What the hell do you want? A life story? I don't know you from Adam."

Kim shuffled slightly in place, trying to fight back the cold. "Is Shego in danger?" she asked.

Priss glanced at her watch. "She'll be fine. Surgery takes time."

"From Sylia, I meant," said Kim.

Priss said nothing for almost a minute then flicked the butt of her cigarette onto the street. "No," she said before standing up. "You, though, I'd watch my back. She doesn't like rivals." She turned to face Kim directly. "I'm not sure what you're rooting around for here, but she's not going to attack your girlfriend. She's not a psychopath. Yeah, she nearly ran me over with her car but, frankly, that's was the only way she was going to get my attention at the time."

She crossed her arms. "Shego looks as though she can take care of herself, and probably wouldn't appreciate you stalking around trying to save her when she hasn't asked for it. Unless she _has_ asked for it, but I'm assume she didn't invite a meddler."

Kim looked slightly away.

"Right," nodded Priss. "I get it, though. You've never had to go through something like this before. You're not sure what's going to happen. I'm going to tell you: Shego is going to be fine. She's strong; she was wearing her helmet; she didn't end up impaled on something. Be happy. You're lucky."

"Lucky?" Kim said, surprised.

"Yeah, lucky," said Priss, stepping closer and pointing at Kim's chest. "She'll recover." She turned on her heel and started walking out into the parking lot. "It doesn't always work out that way."

Kim stared as Priss strode out between the cars and into the darkness where the overhead lights didn't reach.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Priss scowled at nobody in particular as she walked. "Stupid," she said to herself angrily. "I should've just kept my mouth shut. Always getting dragged into garbage I don't want to be part of."

She finally reached the end of the parking lot where she'd left her bike earlier in the day. She was ready to just climb on and let herself go on the road until she noticed someone sitting on her bike. In the dim lighting it was hard to make out, but Priss knew who it was just from the hair.

"You're a liar," said Sylia, sitting with her legs crossed just on the corner of the motorcycle seat. She was leaned slightly back with her hands on the seat cushion behind her looking down at her employee. "You couldn't pass by someone who needed your help if your life depended on it."

"Get off my bike," said Priss, irritated. "And I'm no 'good Samaritan'."

Sylia swung her legs around and hopped down off the bike. She placed one of her hands on her hip and rose an eyebrow. "You do a good job posing as one then."

"I was serious when we met, I would have gutted you right there," said Priss as she walked up to her bike and opened the seat compartment to pull out her helmet.

"You were still reeling from what happened to Leon," said Sylia. She slowly slid up behind Priss and ran her hands up the latter's leather clad back. "I just needed to work out your kinks."

"And put in some of your own," grumbled Priss.

Sylia leaned forward, sliding her arms over Priss' shoulders and pressing herself into the biker's back. "Oh, what's life without a little variety?"

Priss slapped Sylia's arms away and spun around. "Is that what Shego is? Variety?"

Sylia smiled demurely. "Oh, is that jealousy?"

"Damn it, Sylia!" snapped Priss. "Why do you have to do this? Put on this act? I know this isn't you and it's aggravating that you try to pretend it is. You're not this manic pixie any more than you're the stone cold schemer you show to Linna.

"If you know so much about me, then who am I?" asked Sylia with a grin.

Priss frowned deeply. "You're the little girl standing at her papa's funeral terrified that everyone you come to love will die in your arms." She didn't even blink when Sylia slapped her.

"You _don't_ know me that well," said Sylia coldly.

"Oh, don't I?" asked Priss. "Who backed away last time, Sylia? Huh? Who ran when it was about to get serious?"

"We were never serious," said Sylia with a shake of her head.

"Gah!" yelled Priss. "I don't know which makes me feel a bigger idiot, that you turned and ran when I let you in or that I even started to care about you at all!"

"You wanted a replacement for Leon," said Sylia. "That's not what I am."

"Then why were you trying to hard to be?" asked Priss. "Besides, I don't want a replacement for Leon! I will never have a replacement for Leon. He was everything to me and now he's gone. I don't _want_ that replaced, that's a _part_ of me."

"Then what do you want?" asked Sylia. "Everything I've given you, and it's still not enough? What do you need to be complete, Priscilla?"

"I _need_ my _revenge_ on Gemini," said Priss. "Which you've already promised me. So where it? What's the big plan, Sylia?"

"It takes time," said Sylia. "I didn't have the equipment I needed, or the means to buy it without looking suspicious. The Stingray GP is a means to that end."

"And Shego, what's that about?" asked Priss. "You really cared about her or did you have a plan?"

Sylia hesitated just long enough.

"You had a plan," said Priss. She shook her head. "Of course you did." She swung her leg over the top of the motorcycle and pulled her helmet on.

"It's not just about the plan!" said Sylia.

"I don't care anymore," said Priss. She started her motorcycle with a roar. "Get me what I need and I'll do anything you want in return, _except_ play a role in your seductions."

"Priss!"

With a roar, Priss kicked her bike into gear and sped out of the parking lot leaving a black trail on the pavement behind her. Sylia stared after her looking equal parts lost and alone.

*** End Part Three

A/N: I'm delving a little deeper into the Bubblegum Crisis back story now than I had originally intended, but I think I know how to make it work out. All of this was supposed to be occurring in the background but I'm obviously laying some foundation here for it to become prominent. I guess I'll have to resolve all this in Hitchhiker 4.

The next chapter will be on this coming Friday.


	4. Dreamer

**4. Dreamer**

_By the time I was fifteen I'd long since already given up on parents ever being of any use to me. A few years earlier, Dad tripped up and put Wendell in the hospital causing all sorts of attention to descend on him. He was questioned, people came around, there were fights. Somehow my father's silver tongue got him out of trouble, but it was obvious that my best bet for keeping out of the hospital myself was to never be around him._

_So I spent my days out and about after school, never coming home until the absolutely latest I could manage without getting in even more trouble. I never ate dinner with them, I never said my prayers, I never brushed my teeth in my house. I came in just when I knew they'd be tired and would be too drunk or engrossed in their TV to bother getting up to beat me. I'd run upstairs, lock myself in my room, and sleep until the crack of dawn when I'd slip back out of the house to find something to do until school started. Sometimes I'd screw up my timing and I'd end up with a sprained wrist or a black and blue back for my mistake. The next time I'd adjust and wait longer or leave earlier._

_As bad as that sounds, I wasn't the only one with a schedule like that, though probably the only one I knew who was doing it to avoid their parents killing them. It was in the afternoon, after school in ninth grade that I met my first girlfriend. She was a gorgeous bookworm, the impossible combination. I'd never seen anything like her before and that was my first realization that I played for the other team. Other girls may have come to the realization earlier, but it hit me like a dump truck full of bricks._

*** KP – KP – KP ***

The public school library was mostly empty around this time of the year. With spring sports starting, midterms over, and finals still too far away to be a tangible concern, most students would be anywhere else than in the library after school.

But not her, Sharon saw with delight, not Vivian Porter.

Vivian was sitting at one of the large tables with a series of textbooks and notebooks laid out in front of her. She was studying... something that Sharon couldn't figure out. It was something to do with robotics and prosthetics, nothing that was at all covered in classes, even the honors ones. Sharon didn't have a lot of direct knowledge of what went on in the honors classes, but she could see the thin layer of dust on the hardcover books that Vivian pulled out and it was clear they hadn't been touched in months.

Vivian was chewing on the end of her pencil as she was reading, occasionally taking it out to use the eraser to turn the page. Then back between her lips it went, the wood gently getting gnawed on by her teeth.

Sharon stared at the entrancing sight. She wasn't sure what she was doing there, to be honest. She had only come into the library a few weeks ago to find some stupid book for her English class that she couldn't afford to buy when she saw her. The blonde, wavy haired, endowed beauty with a propensity for tube tops and jackets with tight jeans. And books! She had a million books in her arms at all times, except when they were laid out on a table or bursting from her backpack and sling bag.

For some reason, Sharon couldn't keep her eyes off of her. It was a strange feeling, actually, a faint sensation of pulling the way she'd never had before over a girl or boy or anyone for that matter. She wasn't quite sure what she should do about it.

She picked out a random book and sat down at a nearby table to read it. Or pretend to read it in any case. Sharon gave actually reading it a shot, but it quickly revealed itself to be about Boring, written by Boring McBoringstein and she nearly got a headache from the multi-syllabic words. She resigned herself to just idly turning the pages and looking at the diagrams as if she were studying it. Even that proved to be infinitely less enjoyable than staring at Vivian.

"Hey."

Sharon blinked and became aware of the fact that while she was looking at Vivian, now Vivian was looking back at her with a quizzical expression.

"Um," said Sharon. "Hi?"

"What's up?" Vivian said. "You were staring at me?"

"Oh, yes, I was... because..." Sharon struggled for a reason. "I was... just... wondering what you were reading about. Those seem like pretty advanced books for our grade."

Vivian tilted her head slightly and looked to be straining a bit. "What you've got there is no walk in the park either," she said.

Sharon looked down at her book again, glancing at the title for the first time since she sat down with it. It said 'Structuralism' by J. Piaget. "Oh, yeah," said Shego. "It's really... uh, deep."

"I'll say," said Vivian. "I started reading that a year or so ago intending to read all of Piaget's major works, but I wasn't really getting anything meaningful out of it and gave up." She patted the stack of books beside her. "I'll stick to my engineering books. But, I applaud you for slogging through it. Have you read any of his other major works?"

Sharon stared at Vivian as if she'd just spouted an alien language. "Yes?" she ventured.

"Wow, that's impressive," said Vivian with a broad smile on her face. "I'd love to talk about them with you sometime. The theory is relevant to what I'm studying but I'm afraid I need someone to explain it to me."

"Uh, okay, yeah, we should totally do that," said Sharon. A smile crept across her face. She couldn't help it. "What _are_ you studying?"

"Artificial intelligence and robotics," said Vivian. She pointed at a few of the books before her. "I've been toying around in C ever since that Computer Languages class they offered in Freshman year but I really want to build robots." She sighed. "There are no Magnet courses for engineering though, so I have to learn it myself."

"But... you're just fifteen!" said Sharon. "Isn't it a little early to be thinking about your job?"

"I'll be sixteen before the end of the year!" said Vivian, a little defensively. "And why wait when you already know what you're going to do? I don't want to wait for someone to tell me I'm allowed to learn something. I want to learn it now. Waiting is just a waste of time." She shrugged. "Isn't that why you're reading psychology texts when it's not on the curriculum?"

Sharon looked at her book again and tried to think on her feet. "Oh, yeah, I mean, I just like to read this stuff. You know... all psychologically... proper. But I hadn't considered it as something to do for like a job or something."

"Why not?" asked Vivian. "Do you like it?"

"I like riding my bike and snowboarding too, but I'm not thinking about becoming a professional cyclist," pointed out Sharon.

"Hmmm," Vivian mused. "I see your point. Not everything we enjoy becomes a job." She nodded to herself and then pushed aside a large textbook to reveal a notepad. A few quick strokes of a pen later she looked up. "So, we should still talk about Piaget, though. Or, are you busy?"

Sharon looked wide eyed back. "I'm... still... reading this one. Maybe we should talk about it later."

"Next week then?" asked Vivian. "We can meet here after school on Thursday."

"Sure!" said Sharon before her brain could stop her. "I'll be here."

"Great!" Vivian said with equal enthusiasm.

The two then looked at each other with lopsided smiles unsure of what was supposed to be said next. They both awkwardly turned their heads down to their books to go back to reading. Sharon tried to go back and actually read the words in front of her for a change but her heart was beating too fast and she was finding it hard to focus. She cursed herself silently. She was excited over a study date, how lame.

She felt a delightful jolt in her abdomen at the idea of having a date with Vivian, though. Even though it was just to talk about boring books. She had no idea why she was so excited, it had to be some sort of sickness.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Sharon sat on top of the retaining wall extending from the edge of the school building that separated the upper level playgrounds from the lower level basketball courts. She had a book on her lap and her head held vice-like in her hands and muttering incessantly to herself. She'd been this way for almost an hour.

A shadow descended over her from the direction of the playground side. "What could possibly be so interesting that you did not come to see my mad moves?" came an accented voice. "It cannot be this _book_?" The last word was said with distain as if it was hard for him to even pronounce.

"Not now, Junior," said Sharon, removing one hand from her temple just long enough to wave the newcomer away.

"I have told you, do not call me that name," said Junior, clearly irritated. "My name is Ricardo."

"Yeah, I know," said Sharon, not looking up. "Same as your father, which makes him Ricardo Senior _Senior_ and you Ricardo Senior _Junior_. Or do you just think of him as Prisoner 24601?"

"I do not think of him at all," said Junior. "And I would like not to be reminded of him."

"Tough, I'm busy," said Sharon.

Junior frowned deeply then snatched the book away from Sharon and leapt down to the empty basketball courts. "Let's see!"

"Hey!" snapped Sharon. She flipped over the edge of the wall to land near Junior and held out her hand expectantly. "Hand it over or I'll ruin your complexion with my fists."

"How do you read all these?" Junior asked, holding the book over his head where he presumed Sharon would not be able to reach. "There are so many words and so few pictures."

"I need to study that," said Sharon. "It's important."

"School is not important, it is a triviality to graduate," said Junior.

"Yeah, and who told you that?" asked Sharon.

"My f-" Junior stopped and looked annoyed.

"It's not for school," Sharon said calmly. "Please give it to me."

Junior looked at the book again and then handed it over to Sharon with a skeptical expression. "If it is not for school, what is it for? For fun?" He shivered once as if unnerved by the idea.

"Sort of," grumbled Sharon. "I told someone I knew what this book was about. Now I have to read it."

"Why would you do that?" asked Junior. "Books are so boring. Just talk about ice skating."

"It's Spring, Junior," said Sharon.

"The ice skating rink is open all year," said Junior. "And it doesn't involve reading."

Sharon sighed. "It's important to her that we talk about this and I don't want to sound like an idiot."

"Her?" asked Junior. "Her who?"

"Nobody," Sharon said quickly, then immediately regretted it. Denial would only stoke the flames of his curiosity.

"Who is this girl who wants to read about making buildings?" asked Junior.

"It's not about making buildings!" said Sharon, a little testily. "It's psychology. Structuralism is a way of understanding the mind through language; and how we use it and how it changes our perception."

"ZZZZzzzz," snored Junior. "Why are you interested in that?"

"I'm not," said Sharon, getting more annoyed. "It's not because I like this stuff."

"Then why tell her you know it?" asked Junior. "Whoever this 'her' is."

"I didn't... _tell_ her I knew it," said Sharon. "I just didn't deny that I did."

"Then tell her you do not and talk about something that isn't incredibly boring and stealing away time watching me do tricks on my bike." Junior crossed his arms.

"It's important to her," said Sharon.

"Then she should find someone who really knows this stuff and talk to that person."

"I don't want her talking to someone else, I want her to talk to me!" said Sharon.

"Why?" asked Junior.

"I... because... I'm..." Sharon struggled. She really didn't know why she was putting herself through all this just to talk to Vivian, but she knew that she felt she had to. She didn't want Vivian to talk to anyone else, she wanted it to be her. "I like it when she talks to me."

"That does not make any sense," concluded Junior. "Do you not like it when I talk to you?"

"Not _currently_," said Sharon.

"You are simply ill and confused," said Junior. "You should come get some chicken soup at my home. I will have Edgar prepare you some."

"I don't want chicken soup at your manor, Junior," said Sharon. "And Edgar creeps me out."

"He is an odd butler," said Junior. "But he has a contract with my father and I cannot fire him without my father's approval."

"Why not just go to the prison and ask him?"

"Because we are not talking," said Junior with a finality that meant that discussion of that topic had ended. Shego shook her head and opened up the book again, leaning her shoulder against the pole supporting the basketball hoop. Junior studied her intently and ineffectually. "When are you going to be done?"

"Not soon," said Sharon without looking up.

Junior sighed and stalked away.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Sharon sat patiently in the vacant library with a stupid grin on her face. It was starting to get stuck that way, something the perpetually cynical student could hardly believe would happen. There was neither rhyme nor reason to her feelings anymore, she concluded, and decided she was in the grip of some sort of madness. But since it was a pleasant kind of madness, the type that her friends described being in when they smoked weed, she figured she wouldn't mind being this sort of junkie.

There were the odd side effects, though. She didn't get the munchies, but she was now apparently reading books on developmental psychology and child education. Getting through the first Piaget book was a chore that kept her up long into the night for five days, but after the next book was somewhat easier. Riding the high of being able to discuss more with Vivian than just the one book, Sharon managed to read through three books total before Thursday rolled around.

She even understood some of them by the end, much to her surprise. She figured she'd have to spend time memorizing passages to recite and impress Vivian but the more she read, the more she understood what she was reading and less she had to look up on the computers in the public library. It was almost like school, if school was interesting and involved getting to talk to a pretty girl in the end.

Sharon paused a bit. She was starting to get a vague idea of what was wrong with her, when phrases like "excited to talk with a pretty girl" started appearing in her thoughts. Her mind kept slipping on exactly how to describe it, but she had the amorphous feeling that the idea was just on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be said and understood.

"Hi!" came a cheery voice from the entrance to the library. Sharon spun in her chair to see Vivian bouncing into the room, for once not carrying any books or bags. She was wearing a light blue top and a flimsy three-quarters length jacket that had a dark blue and gray pattern on it. It billowed behind her like a cape made of silk.

"Hi, Vivian," said Sharon.

Vivian came over and said right next to Sharon at the table and turned towards her. Sharon swallowed at the sudden nervousness she felt at her proximity.

"Listen, I'm afraid I have to run home," she said. "My mom had to stay late at work and I have to watch my baby brother. I'm sorry, can we plan for Monday?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Sharon looked a little shocked and stammered a bit. "O-oh, yeah, I suppose so," she said. A heavy feeling settled on her and threatened to smother her. "I guess we can do next week. I wouldn't want your brother to be left alone."

Vivian smiled widely. "Thanks, he's not much of a trouble causer, but someone has to be nearby in case he hurts himself. I'd bring him here if I could."

Sharon's brows shot up at an idea she had. "Well, I could come with you?"

"Come with me?" asked Vivian, confused.

"Yeah, I mean, if he doesn't need much attention we could still talk about this at your place."

"Oh, sure," said Vivian. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but if you don't mind, you can come over."

Sharon smiled again. "Let's do that," she said that, trying not to sound as delighted as she was feeling. Her quick thinking got her more time with Vivian!

Vivian nodded her head towards the door. "Let's go then, it's not a far walk from here."

Sharon quickly gathered up her books and shoved them into a bag to chase after Vivian who was already by the door. Together they headed out of the school and onto the sidewalks.

"So, how old is your brother?" asked Sharon.

"Three," said Vivian. "He's pretty tame, though, you'll like him. You have two brothers, right?"

"Four, actually," said Sharon. "The twins are still in grade school."

"Oh, then you must be great with kids," said Vivian.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose," said Sharon. She hated kids, actually, but she could put up with a relatively tame one for Vivian. "I don't spend much time at home my parents... well, they're very busy."

"Oh, yeah, I know what that's like," said Vivian with a smile. "My mother is a distribution manager and my dad does sales, they both are _constantly_ working. Something always comes up and I have to watch little Randall until they get back."

"So you have to spend a lot of time at home alone?" asked Sharon.

"Yeah," said Vivian, lightheartedly. "It's not so bad, I get a lot of time to read. Eventually Randall will grow up and I won't need to be home all the time."

"It sounds great," said Sharon. "I don't get along with my family much, I try to spend as much time away from home as possible."

"Oh, that's sad," said Vivian.

"Not really," said Sharon. "They're really ... uh, angry people, and it's better to just stay away from them." She shrugged. "It is a pain to find somewhere to hang out every day, though. The school kicks you out at six unless you're in the drama club, and that still leaves me lots of time to kill."

"Well, if you're feeling bored just give me a call," said Vivian. "I'd welcome the company most of the time."

"Really?" Sharon said, her eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, sure," said Vivian. "I don't mind, as long as you don't mind talking about robotics all the time."

"Oh, no, that'd be fine," said Sharon. "I'd love you."

Sharon froze. _What_ did she just say?

"What was that?" asked Vivian, casually. She didn't seem to have fully noticed.

"I'd love to," said Sharon quickly. "I'd love to talk about robotics with you."

"That's great!" Vivian said cheerily.

Sharon smiled wanly but inside she felt her stomach twist and churn. Her mind circled around the slip-up she just made and examined it from every possible angle until there was only one conclusion that could be drawn: she had a crush on Vivian.

She was _crushing_ on Vivian Porter. She had a crush on a girl. A girl crush. A crush on a non-boy. A boy-less fascination.

And it felt right.

"Oh god," Sharon muttered under her breath. "Could my life get any more complicated?"

*** KP – KP – KP ***

"So what are you going to do about it?" asked Junior as they sat in his brand new Mercedes SLK convertible. Junior was a year older than Sharon despite being in the same grade, one of the oddities of his transfer from private school a few years back. He had just gotten his license as few weeks before which had been rewarded with a car from his father's until-recently-untouched-in-three-years garage. They were parked out by the beach looking out over the Lake Michigan.

"What am I supposed to do?" asked Sharon. "I'll talk to her about it I guess."

"I still can't believe you're gay," said Junior tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I thought I had a chance at you."

Sharon stared at Junior. "You can't be serious," she said. "I've known you for three years and you've never so much as looked at me in a salacious way."

"Well, I thought, maybe as a backup, you know?" said Junior. "Like a marriage pact."

"We are way too young to be having this conversation," said Sharon. "This is middle-aged WASP sitcom territory and you and I are both teenagers and minorities."

Junior laughed and Sharon giggled a bit with him. This was when she was most relaxed, she realized. A friend who never really demanded much of her, a nice ride in an awesome car, and view over the lake. It almost made her forget the endless angsting she'd been doing over Vivian.

"Is she gay?" asked Junior, finally.

"Viv? I've never seen her with a boyfriend," said Sharon. "Never really saw her with anyone really before we started hanging out. She's sort of a shut-in half the time because of her little brother."

"Yeah, little Randall," said Junior with a groan. "How is it possible she has no idea what a devil he is? You keep telling me she's a genius."

"She _is_ a genius," Sharon said a little proudly. "But he's also a ninja. I'm sure of it. A four year old ninja." She sighed.

"How long have you known that you were... you know," asked Junior.

"About a week after meeting Vivian," said Sharon.

"Wow," said Junior. "That probably would have been the time to talk to her about it, you know. Now you're in the 'friend zone' and it's just going to make things awkward if she's... you know, straight."

Sharon buried her head in her hands. "I wish I had a simpler life. Maybe a rich jet setter or a slinky cat burglar, roaming the country stealing what I want without a care in the world."

"See, you could have married into all of this," Junior said, motioning towards the car they were sitting in. "Now you're out of luck."

"Yeah, call me when your trust comes due and maybe I'll switch teams," said Sharon into her palms.

Junior chuckled again and they sat in silence for a few minutes more. Eventually Sharon picked her head up and leaned back into the leather seats again. She pulled out a book on learning theory by Seymour Papert and flipped through it to fill the silence.

"More books Vivian asked you to read?" asked Junior.

"Nah, I picked this one up," Sharon said. "It's more historical than practical to what Vivian is doing. I'm just curious about how Piaget's theories were applied in programming."

"Huh," said Junior.

"Hmm?" mused Sharon without looking up.

"I think anyone who has changed your life as much as Vivian has, must be aware of how you feel about her," said Junior.

Sharon looked up her from book again.

"If she's really your friend, she'd probably still accept you even if she wasn't interested," said Junior. "But I think she is."

"You think so?" asked Sharon.

"I've seen you two together, and it's as close as two people can be while creating robots to take over the world."

Sharon laughed warmly. "Thanks. I'll talk to her."

"See, I can be smart sometimes," said Junior with a smile

"Yeah? And what about you and the Adonis-like Juan Lawrence?" said Sharon.

"One has nothing to do with the other," said Junior.

"Oh, sure, you don't see the parallel at all," said Sharon. "While we're on it, though, I just have to say again, for about the millionth's time, that he has the most ridiculous name."

"You may say it a million times more," said Junior. "He did not pick his name, it was given to him."

"Yeah, but he could go by something else, like you go by Junior," said Sharon.

"I do not go by Junior, I go by Ricardo. _You_ insist on calling me Junior."

"Me and everyone we know," said Sharon with a smirk.

"Only because of _your_ influence," replied Junior.

"I will have to talk to Juan Lawrence about calling you that too," noted Sharon.

"This is getting worse for me and no better for you," said Junior. "If things do not improve, I will leave."

"Oh-ho, look who has been developing a backbone recently!" giggled Sharon. "I shall have to makes sure Juan Lawrence knows of that too."

"You don't have to use his whole name every time either," pointed out Junior.

"Yes, yes I do," said Sharon with a gleeful laugh.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

_He was right, of course. It actually was a much easier conversation that I had expected it to be. Viv was, in a way, waiting for me to build up my nerve, though she pretended to be surprised for my sake_

_Junior always put on the ignorant front but I think, behind the airhead façade he was smarter than he let on. I think it's impossible to go through the sort of thing he did with his father's arrest and incarceration without learning a little bit about the dark underbelly of the world. But he never acted like he knew, as if all those jaded thoughts brushed off him as he walked. He had to have them, but he decided he was above it._

_A few years later, while I was in Colorado for college, his father made a deal to rat on some politicians for reduced prison time and was released on parole. Presumably he was intending to head for his home in Chicago but he never made it there. A black limo arrived to pick him up from the penitentiary but that limo was never identified and Senior Senior's body was never found. Some said he fled the country and went into hiding, but none of his funds were ever accessed._

_Junior wouldn't comment on it, even when I asked him. We weren't talking that much by that point, having both found our own lives in college, and after that, we drifted even further apart. It's sad, but it's the way things go in my life._

_I still keep tabs on Viv occasionally, but we don't talk. We had a fight about a year after we started dating and, as it goes with high school romance, it ended about as mysteriously as it began. It's funny to think about how sure I was that we were going to grow old together when we were dating, when it was pretty obvious we didn't share much in common. She had a pretty face and a crazy sexy body - which I NEVER got to fully see – but she was going to be a researcher for her whole life and while I was fascinated for a while, I honestly couldn't bear the thought of so much studying and standing still. I wanted to move!_

_At least she sparked my interest in engineering, which was fanned into a flame when I started dating Sam in junior year and learned the magic of muscle car drag racing. Robotics was a nice dream to have, but car engines were real, and I found applied science to be much more engrossing._

_Sam was out, though, by the time I graduated. She dumped me for some skinny skinhead dude with more tattoos than brain cells. I'll never figure that one out. Though it was inevitable, since there was no way she was coming with me to Colorado on her grades. Last I heard about her she works on a casino boat in Gary, Indiana._

_My life has just been an endless series of disappointments when it comes to women. Maybe I'm just fooling myself with Kim. There's no clear blue sky or endless horizon for me. Just more potholes on the road._

_Almost makes one want to veer off into the guard rail._

*** End Part Four

A/N: I'm going slightly mad trying to keep my names straight here. I must have put 'Shego' about three dozen times before remembering to go back and change it to Sharon. Almost makes me wish I had called her Shego from the start instead of having Kim name her.

After the last time with Shego, I'm sure you expected much worse. See? I don't always abuse my characters.


	5. The Guardian

**5. The Guardian**

The specialist was a tall redhead in a lab coat, mulling over MRIs and CAT scans taken after Shego came out of surgery. She looked a little beleaguered as she sat silently behind a desk in a largely empty office at the hospital. Kim and Sylia sat opposite her, waiting patiently, although Kim was silently freaking out for a reason other than Shego's current condition.

"There's some swelling here," said Dr. Ann McKullen as she pointed to the MRI. "We'll have to keep an eye on that to make sure it doesn't end up pressing against the cranial wall, but I don't suspect it will, given how long it's been since the accident. Otherwise she's got good circulation and pressure. I can't see anything else physically wrong that would cause the coma."

"Is this typical after an accident of this nature?" asked Sylia, crossing her legs in the chair.

"It can be," nodded Ann. "Any substantial impact can result in temporary coma, even a concussion." She lifted her head and gently patted down her hair. "I don't think I can say much for certain for another twelve hours, though. It's just too soon after surgery to make any prognosis."

Sylia frowned and looked disappointed. "Very well," she said. "I apologize for flying you out on such short notice. I'll make sure you have suitable accommodations near to the hospital for the night."

"It's alright," nodded Ann with a smile. "I know what it's like to have someone you care about in the hospital. Just because I'm a surgeon doesn't exempt me from those worries from time to time."

"You have a family?" blurted Kim suddenly.

Ann nodded. "I have two brothers as well as nieces and nephews who have all had their scuffs and bruises over the years. It can be harrowing, especially when my expertise doesn't lend me being able to do much personally."

"But no kids of your own?" pressed Kim. She was clearly fishing but she didn't care.

"No," said Ann simply and didn't elaborate.

"Thank you, Dr. McKullen," said Sylia, standing. "Linna will handle your arrangements. If you don't mind staying around for the next twenty four hours to monitor Ms. Hedge's condition."

"I think I can make room for it," said Ann. "I haven't been out West in a while."

"Enjoy the sights," nodded Sylia. "On me, as gratitude for your... flexibility." She turned and opened the door to the office. Linna was standing not too far away. "Take care of Dr. McKullen, please." Sylia walked past her aide without a glance and disappeared into the halls.

"Abrupt, isn't she?" Anne said with a half-smile.

"She's got..." started Kim but realized she didn't know how to finish. "She's a busy person."

"I can see that," said Ann. "It's nice to know she has compassion for her employees, though."

Kim nodded silently then stood as Linna walked over to Ann to give her hotel information. Kim started heading for the door to follow Sylia.

"Wait," Ann called out. Kim turned by the door. "Do we... have we met before?"

Kim's eyes widened. "M-maybe?" she said, experimentally.

"You look familiar," said Ann. "Possible was your name?"

Kim nodded.

"I knew a James Possible in college," said Ann. "You wouldn't be related to him, would you?"

Kim froze. She was trying her hardest not to think about how this doctor was clearly her mother. Or at least this world's version of her mother. It was surprising and more than a little unnerving, but she did her best to keep focused on the matter at hand. But now... could she actually remember her? Or was it just another of those weird coincidences that always seemed to work against her?

"No, I'm afraid not," said Kim. She'd suffered the indignity of her father in this world already, she didn't need to repeat that again. "My parents were... Elliot and Andrea." She hoped Ron wouldn't mind her stealing his parents' identity temporarily.

"Oh, I see," said Ann. She sounded a little dejected. "Sorry."

"It's alright," said Kim. She turned and left quickly, hoping to avoid another uncomfortable question.

Once she was down the hall she began to tremble. She wanted to talk to Shego so badly she could burst. She wasn't sure what to do. Her closest friend was in a coma, Sylia was suddenly acting very coldly towards her, Priss had vanished, and she'd just found her mother at last but decided it wasn't worth the trouble to try and talk to her. This was simply too much for her to handle alone and she wanted her soulmate back.

Kim moved to the nearest chair in the hall and collapsed into it. She didn't typically let her emotions show but she felt like she had no ability to control them anymore. Her heart was beating out of control and she couldn't calm it down. Her fingers shook because of the fear of losing Shego, someone she never would have thought she could have been so close to only months ago. She just wanted it all to stop. She had to believe that Shego was going to be fine and that things were eventually going to go back to normal, but she was finding it impossible to convince herself. Who could she talk to for help?

The question weighed on her for several minutes until a voice broke into her thoughts.

"Are you all right, sweetie?"

Kim looked up to see her mother—no, Dr. McKullen – looking down at her with a kind expression. Linna was hovering to the left just in the corner of her eye, but all of Kim's attention was on the doctor. She found it impossible to see anyone other than her mother in this woman and it was ruining what little resolve she had left.

Kim bit her lip to try and fight back the tears that were about to well up in her eyes. "I'm worried about her," she said.

"She'll be alright," said Ann. "Give her time to fight this and I'm sure she'll come back to her friends. Someone so important to such determined people couldn't possibly do anything but fight to beat this. Right?"

Kim swallowed and tried to smile and nod. It was the hardest thing she's ever had to do.

"Maybe you should talk to her," said Ann.

"What?" asked Kim.

"Go to her," replied the doctor. "Talk to her. She'll hear you, I promise."

Kim considered this. It seemed so ridiculous. You couldn't hear voices when you were asleep, how could she hear anything when in a coma? And yet, there was something compelling about the suggestion. "Where is she?" asked Kim.

"Here, I'll take you." Ann offered her hand out to Kim.

It was so hard not to see her mother. "Okay," said Kim and she took the hand.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Sylia sat alone in her town car with her laptop out, typing furiously. She had a lot to do and her worrying about Shego was not helping. For a little while she could push thoughts about Priss as well as her newest racer out of her mind long enough to get back to her job, but only for a little while. There was work to be done to set up her league exactly right to further her plans.

Her phone rang and she cursed her luck. She checked the display and realized she couldn't just send it to voice mail.

"This is Stingray," she said.

"Ah, Sylia, how wonderful to hear your dulcet tones again!"

Sylia grumbled something inaudible and vulgar. "I've got not time, Fargo. What do you want?"

"Touchy," came the hurt voice of her contact. "I can call back later if you're too busy to talk."

"Damn it, Fargo! Spill it!"

"Wow, bad day, huh?" said Fargo. He sighed. "This isn't going to make it much better." The sound of papers shuffling was momentarily heard. "I've got signed papers here, preparing for the transition of projects, information that points to at least one person who knew everything was going to happen that night in the labs. There's no way to look at these requisitions and approvals as anything other than magnificent foresight or knowledge of the coming accident."

"Who?" insisted Sylia.

"Mason," said Fargo, softly.

"Mason," repeated Sylia, incredulously. "Impossible."

"He requested the equipment to take over your father's research before the accident. He prepared the hot labs, he blacked out the mainframes expecting classified data. He did everything short of send an e-mail telling someone to start the fire. It has got to be him, at least, maybe Quincy as well – who's his superior within Gemini – but definitely him."

"That is not possible!" yelled Sylia. "Mason was my father's _friend_. He's been _my_ friend!"

"If you have a better explanation for this—"

"_Send__it_," said Sylia. "I want to look at it."

"Sylia, you knew he went to work for Gemini, you knew Gemini was involved. You had to realize there was a chance he was a player in this scheme."

"_Four__years,_" said Sylia. "I gave you Masons name _four__years__ago_. How has it taken this long to come up with this? Someone is playing you."

"Mason has been playing you," said Fargo. "I'm sorry, Sylia. You paid me to find out the truth. I'm sorry it took this long, but Brian Mason is the guy. He may not have set the fire, but he knew it was going to happen."

Sylia sat still, frozen in place, only her lips moved so slightly it was barely perceivable. "He killed my father."

"And stole his research," said Fargo. "I don't know what happened to it, everything is still blacked. I don't even know what he stole, to be honest, but the setup matches the Foundation, and everything lines up too perfectly for any other explanation. Something large was moved out of the Foundation labs and into Gemini that night."

"I know what he stole," said Sylia.

"Well then," said Fargo. He hesitated on the line. "What do you want to do?"

Sylia remained still. "Send me the info. I'll send your fee."

"Sylia..."

"Good night, Fargo."

"Wait, are you alr—"

Sylia ended the call.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

"Priss Asagiri," came a surprised voice from behind the biker at the bar. Priss turned and saw the tall, dark haired Asian man. He was dressed in a red leather jacket and had his matching helmet under his arm. He gracefully stepped around the tables and over to the bar to sit next to the woman.

"Hirotaka," said Priss, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Hirotaka put his helmet down on the bar and waved the bartender over to get a sake bomb. "Flying Fist competition in San Francisco," he said eventually. "I'm representing the old alma mater. The better question is what are you doing here?" He looked at the shot glasses lined up in front of her. "I thought you laid off this stuff now that you work for Stingray."

"Meh," shrugged Priss. "I'm having an off day."

"Lost to a chump?" asked Hirotaka with a smirk.

"My co-worker wiped out and is in the hospital," said Priss curtly.

Hirotaka looked stricken and all mirth fled from his face. "By the kamis... are you alright?"

"I didn't crash," said Priss.

"Yeah, but, I mean..." started HIrotaka. He shifted on the bar stool. "Is it serious? Your co-worker?"

Priss picked up the last full shot and held it up to stare at the liquid. "Dunno yet," she said. "Still under the knife last I heard." She quickly slammed back the shot and then placed the empty glass on the bar.

Hirotaka looked at the empty glass. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," said Priss.

"Yeah, but I know you must be thinking about ... Leon," he said carefully.

Priss closed her eyes tightly for a moment. Then she shook her head. "I don't think about him every time someone ends up in the hospital."

"Liar," said Hirotaka.

"Man, what do you know?" asked Priss angrily. "Leon bites it and you go racing back to your harem in Japan."

"You know that's not what happened," said Hirotaka.

"Don't give me that," said Priss. "I know you all thought he was an ass. You, Daley, _Yori_."

"He _was_ an ass and you know it," said Hirotaka. "That doesn't mean we didn't care about him. Doesn't mean we don't think what happened to him wasn't sad."

"But you all _left_ _me__alone_ to deal with it," said Priss. "Really classy." She motioned to the bartender, and held up two fingers.

"What could we have done, Priss?" asked Hirotaka. "You didn't want our sympathy, you didn't want our help. You had bloody vengeance in your eyes and that's all you could see. It's amazing you didn't go and get yourself killed trying to run through the front door of Gemini."

"I tried," said Priss darkly. "Little miss rich brat stopped me."

"And we're all thankful," said Hirotaka. "But I can see you just put that feeling on hold all this time."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" asked Priss. She seemed exhausted. "Pretend he isn't dead?"

"Let it go," said Hirotaka. "It was a horrible accident but it doesn't have—"

Priss glared at Hirotaka. "It was _no_ accident."

"Priss..."

"No, those bastards at Gemini did it on purpose," said Priss.

"This is what I'm talking about!" said Hirotaka loudly. The bar was relatively loud to begin with but his accented voice temporarily rose above the din such that a few other people at the bar turned to stare. He deliberately calmed himself and waved awkwardly towards those looking at him. With a breath, he turned back to Priss. "You can't keep clinging to him like this. It'll just make your memories bitter."

"I'm not crazy," said Priss. "They murdered him and nobody ever did anything about it."

Hirotaka just shook his head. "None of this will bring him back. Just remember the good times we had and forget about the end. Move on with your life, find someone new to irritate."

"I don't want a replacement," Priss spat. She picked up one of the shot glasses the bartender brought over. She downed it without hesitating. She looked blearily at the empty glass. "Everyone wants to take his place."

"Nobody is trying to replace anyone," said Hirotaka, exasperated.

"Then stop telling me to find someone new," said Priss. "I don't want someone new. I want him back."

Hirotaka sighed. "You can't have that."

Priss picked up the last shot again. "Then what's the point of anything?"

Hirotaka put his hand on top of Priss's shot glass. "Did you know about Daley?"

Priss frowned. "Daley? What about him? Know what?"

"Did you know he went through the same thing you are going through now?" asked Hirotaka.

"It's not the same," muttered Priss.

"Did you _know_ about Daley?"

"What the hell does that mean, Hiro?"

"He cared about Leon too," said Hirotaka.

Priss sighed. "I know you all cared about him too, we were all friends," she said begrudgingly.

"Daley cared about Leon a lot," insisted Hirotaka.

"Oh, that gay thing was just a joke between them," said Priss. "They were always teasing each other like that, it was nothing. Just a joke."

"Maybe to Leon," said Hirotaka. He removed his hand from the top of Priss' shot glass.

Priss looked incredulous. "Yeah to _Leon_, who else..." she paused. She blinked several times. She squinted at the ceiling lights for a moment, then looked back at Hirotaka. "_Really_?"

Hirotaka nodded.

"Christ," said Priss and put the glass down.

"You're not the only one suffering in this world," said Hirotaka.

"No kidding," said Priss. She paused. "Doesn't change nothing, though. Just means Gemini made more people miserable."

"Daley found someone," said Hirotaka. "He's not quite as bad off anymore."

"Lucky him," said Priss. "It's not that easy for me." She picked up the glass and drank it before Hirotaka could intervene. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she pulled out a couple twenties and left them on the bar. "Say hi to Yori for me."

Hirotaka shook his head as he watched his friend stumble out the bar and onto the street.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Kim held Shego's hand tenderly as she sat by her bedside. The room was dimly lit and quiet save for the hum of machinery keeping track of Shego's heart rate and breathing. Dr. McKullen sat nearby quietly and Linna was outside the room like a sentinel, keeping watch.

"Talk to her," said Ann. "It'll make both of you feel better."

Kim sighed slowly, then nodded. She opened her mouth, then hesitated, and looked at Ann again. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Ann raised her eyebrows then blinked. "Oh, no, I'm sorry," she said. She got up suddenly. "I'll be outside if you need me, sweetie." She walked out of the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

Kim looked back to Shego's sleeping face. "That was my mom," she said with a half smile. "Well, my mom from my world. Here she's a neurosurgeon who works at the Mayo Clinic and whom Sylia flew out here at incredible expense." She smiled a little broader. "She's still as nice as I remember her."

Kim swallowed hard again. "I don't know if I can trust her, though, so... I didn't tell her anything. I don't know if I should, really, given what you told me about my father. But... but I'm not sure what I should be doing anymore and who I should be talking to."

A tear fell from Kim's eye and she rubbed it away with the back of her hand. "I don't know why this is so tough for me. I was alone for over a year when I first came here. I'm used to being alone by now. I thought I was anyway. I've run from trouble, into trouble, across the country, and up and down the coast. But I can't imagine it without you anymore. Is that crazy?"

"We've only just met, really," continued Kim. "Relatively speaking. There's so much I don't know about you. I know only a little bit about the Shego from my world and I have a feeling almost none of it works for you. What was your life like before we met? Why did you go into trucking? And why... why did you stop to pick me up in Columbus?"

Kim sniffled and tried to keep herself from crying further. "So, you have to ... you have to come back here. Come back to me, so... so you can tell me why. You don't want me to ... to not know, do you? I mean, there has to be a reason. An important reason, right? I'll never know if you don't tell me. Did you... feel something that told you to pick me up? Did something tell you to expect me? Was it all just chance?"

Kim bowed her head and touched it against the back of Shego's hand. It felt warm. Alive. She had to believe that everything was going to be okay. She had to believe that the doctor was right, that her mother wouldn't lie to her, in any universe.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm not very good at this." Kim lifted her head up again. "I haven't had to deal with it very much in my life. I don't know if you've faced this more often than me or not... I'd like to hope that you haven't but... I don't know. I don't know anything."

She squeezed Shego's hand tightly.

"You hear me in there... right?"

*** KP – KP – KP ***

"She's pretty broken up about this," said Ann to Linna as they stood outside Shego's room. Ann was occasionally looking in to check on Kim and her patient. "I didn't catch their relationship. Is she a sister or...?"

"They're in love," said Linna simply.

"Oh," said Ann, taken aback. "I didn't realize. She didn't say anything."

"They're in denial about it," said Linna. She checked her watch idly. "But it's pretty obvious. Eventually they'll come around. Maybe this will be the event that causes it."

Ann looked at Linna with a skeptical look. "You seem rather above it all."

"I'm just not involved," shrugged Linna. "It's easier to see from the outside."

"Do you wish you _were_ involved?" asked Ann.

"Not in their mess."

"What about with your own mess?" smiled Ann.

Linna stared at Ann with an arched brow. "I don't need that sort of excitement in my life." She looked at her watch again. "Do you need to stick around or can we get you settled in your hotel?"

Ann looked back into the room. "Is someone going to be here for her? It might be best if she's not alone."

Linna nodded. "She'll be taken care of." She pulled out her phone and tapped a few keys on it. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay," said Ann. "Lead the way, then."

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Sylia dropped a USB drive on Nene's lap in the hospital waiting room.

"What's this?" asked Nene, looking up from her phone.

"He's the one," said Sylia. "The one Priss is after."

Nene blinked. "Now? While we're waiting to hear about Shego?"

"You have something else you're doing?" asked Sylia with a frown.

"N...no," squeaked Nene.

"Then take care of it. I want him at the November race."

"Are we... are we really going to do this?" asked Nene, in a small voice.

Sylia turned on her and stared down at the small girl making her feel even smaller. "There is a reason I assembled all of you, a reason why I rescued you from ending up in the custody of the FBI, a reason why I own three times as many companies now than I once did. This is that reason."

"But you didn't even _know_Priss when you—"

"There is more than one reason to go after Gemini," said Sylia simply. "Or have you forgotten what happened to Naoko?"

Nene hung her head and then shook it slowly. "I haven't forgotten," she said. "But a lot of things went wrong that day."

"Things that could have been avoided," said Sylia.

"Maybe," admitted Nene.

"Set him up, I'll take care of the next step," said Sylia. She started to leave again but paused. "And don't talk to Shego or Kim about any of this. Understood? They are not to be involved."

Nene nodded.

Sylia continued out of the waiting room without another word.

*** End Part Five

A/N: So, I'm having significant problems getting Hitchhiker 4 written, which actually resulted in me going back and editing this chapter to change some of the hooks I had left myself for that story. I'm very frustrated at this point, I have to say, to be hitting a road block in my writing. I've been going strong for three months now.

I guess the question I have right now is whether anyone is interested in what Sylia is doing behind the scenes, or has she become soured enough as a character that devoting Hitchhiker 4 to resolving the Sylia/Priss/Nene/Linna story (in conjunction with Kim/Shego of course) is not worth my time? I'm not sure at this point what Hitchhiker 4 is going to look like anymore, so I'm interested in what people say.


	6. Dreamfall

**6. Dreamfall**

_There was a reason, Princess..._

*** KP – KP – KP ***

"Hey, Princess!" came the voice from the doorway. The woman in the room jumped, startled, and spun on her foot to look at the source. Her face lit up immediately.

"Sharon!" yelled the woman, and she ran towards the tall, pale, dark haired woman.

Sharon scooped up the woman in her arms and hugged her tightly, holding her close for just a second longer than she probably should have, and then released, stepping away slightly more flushed in the face than she was before.

The woman she had just hugged noticed neither the blush nor the delay in letting her go. Instead she stepped away casually and smiled warmly. "How's my big sister in law?"

"Oh, you know, same as always," said Sharon. "Going here and there, dropping things off and picking them up again. Life as a trucker doesn't get any more interesting than that."

"Aw, you gotta spice things up a bit somehow," said the woman. "If you think your career is boring it always will be. Mix it up. Do something unexpected! Like me and Mel."

Sharon blinked. "Like you and Mel... what? What are you up to with my brother, Zita?"

Zita Flores-Hedge smirked. Sharon got the feeling the smirk was supposed to be evil but it just looked adorable instead. The familiar stirring began in Sharon's abdomen and she adamantly ignored it. "We're _finally_ going to take our honeymoon! A six city tour of Europe!"

"W-wow," said Sharon, genuinely surprised.

"And it's all thanks to you!" said Zita and she hugged Sharon tightly again.

"Me?" said Sharon, a little confused but pleasantly reveling in the close contact.

Zita broke the hug again. "Yeah, thanks to your belated wedding gift! It got Mel kick-started into planning and he saved up the remainder from his bonus this year to finally book the trip. We're going to _all_ the highlights. Paris, Tuscany, Milan, Dubrovnik, Prague, and Barcelona!"

"I think I know three of those places," said Sharon. "Are you sure Mel is taking you to the _highlights_ of Europe?"

Zita playfully punched Sharon in the arm. "Oh, don't be that way. He's trying very hard to make everything perfect."

"Of course he is, he'd be a fool to treat you as anything other than a Princess," said Sharon.

"You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?" asked Zita. "It was one picture of me... from college!"

"A picture dear to my heart," said Shego, mockingly. "You be sure to break that costume out whenever he starts taking you for granted."

"He'd never do that." Zita sighed with a smile. "I am very grateful to you, you know."

"I'm glad someone is," said Sharon dryly.

"Mel thanks you too, though for the obvious reasons he won't ever say so," said Zita.

Sharon shrugged. "It doesn't matter, as long as you say it, I'll be happy."

"Thank you," Zita said emphatically. "I really do with things were better in your family."

"They can't be," said Sharon. "There were only two sides growing up, my side and Dad's side. That's just how it is. Herman was always with Dad, the twins were with me, and Mel, well, he was stuck between a rock and hard place. He had to play both sides to survive."

"You make growing up sound like the cold war," said Zita.

"It kind of was," said Sharon. "Except instead of a wall falling down, Dad had a heart attack."

"It's still sad," said Zita.

"If you say so," said Sharon. "I'm just glad the geezer's death had an upside."

Zita smiled kindly. "Getting to know your brother again?"

Sharon nodded, even though it wasn't true. "And getting to know my brother's wonderful wife."

Finally Zita blushed. Sharon did a dance inside her head. "Thanks." Zita looked around awkwardly. "So, are you staying for long?"

"Unfortunately not," said Sharon. "Got to head down to Columbus tomorrow."

"You'll come to dinner, though, right?" asked Zita.

Sharon chuckled. "Yeah, I'll come to dinner."

*** KP – KP – KP ***

When Sharon arrived at Mel and Zita's house, she was greeted by Zita briefly before she ran out with Mel the grocery store for last minute dinner supplies. A quick hug with Mel was all she got before they were heading to their car and Sharon found herself in the living room of Mel and Zita's house with her younger twin brothers.

Wilbur and Wendell hadn't looked like one another in a while. Sometimes you can find twins and they look like clones their whole life, identical in appearance, behavior, and mannerisms. It's a mystery if that is because of genetics, environment, or something else entirely. But sometimes, twins turn out different, and while you might have mistaken Wilbur for Wendell up until they entered high school, by now they were different people.

"Hey, sis," said Wendell as he wheeled up to Sharon. The woman bent down to give her brother a hug. He had a cast on his leg that went up to his knee, the most recent in a long line of injuries as a result of his 'extreme' lifestyle. Wendell had long, shaggy brown hair, was as skinny as a rail, and had this faint echo of past injuries across his face drawn in barely visible scars.

"Hi, Shar," said Wilbur as he hugged Sharon after she got up from Wendell. Wilbur had short, closely cropped hair and an equally tightly cut beard. As opposed to his brother's spindly form, Wilbur had bulked out a bit, a result of his track and field successes in the 500 meter and the high jump. He tended to wear tightly fitting clothes to show off his athletic form, while Wendell wore more baggy jeans and tank tops.

"How are my favorite brothers?" asked Sharon with a smile.

"Feh," said Wilbur. "I'll be glad to be rid of Mel for a while."

"Yeah," agreed Wendell. "He's a little bit of a basket case these days. I think his job is getting to him."

"Or taking care of you two monsters is doing it," teased Sharon. She pointed at the wheelchair. "Or was this the result of tripping over a rock?"

"Ugh!" sounded Wilbur. "Can you tell him to knock off the half pipe? This is like the _third_ time this year!"

"No, this is only the second time," insisted Wendell. "I only sprained my ankle that one time."

"But you still ended up on crutches," said Wilbur.

"I had to keep weight off it!"

"Boys," said Sharon. "You're kind of proving my point."

"Oh, like Mel needs us to be neurotic," scoffed Wendell.

"You're probably right," sighed Sharon. "Just try to go easy on him, he certainly did you both a huge favor by becoming your guardian."

Wilbur raised a brow at his sister. "You mean he did YOU a favor, Ms. I-have-no-home?"

"I don't!" said Sharon. "I'd gladly take care of you guys but you can't just hang out in the back of my trailer year 'round. And I doubt the state would accept my storage locker as a suitable residence."

"Yeah, well it won't matter in a few months," said Wilbur. "We'll be legal soon."

"Then what?" asked Sharon. "You'll still need a home."

Wendell shrugged. "I've got friends. I'll get by."

Sharon frowned. "Don't do that," she insisted. "Stick around, finish up high school. Go to college!"

Wendell and Wilbur laughed in unison. "That's a good one, sis," said Wendell.

"What?" asked Sharon.

"College?" asked Wilbur. "Probably not in the picture for us."

"And why not?" asked Sharon, her head tipped slightly back so she could down her nose at them. "You're too good for it?"

"Too expensive," said Wilbur. "Unless I get a scholarship on track, which I doubt."

"Why? You're great at it!" said Sharon.

"I'm great for a Podunk school in west Chicago suburbia," said Wilbur. "There are plenty of people better than me. I've just been thinking about picking up a trade, maybe explore the country. See what's out there for me."

"Wilbur..." said Sharon, wearily. She looked to Wendell. "And what about you? Too expensive as well?"

"What am I going to learn in college?" asked Wendell. "Math? Science? It's just High School all over again. I don't care about that stuff."

"It will help you in ways you don't expect," said Sharon.

"Is that why you dropped out?" asked Wendell.

"She didn't drop out," said Wilbur. "She was _kicked_ out."

"Boys..." started Sharon.

"No, I want to know," said Wilbur. "Do you really think this is what we want or is this just your regret?"

Sharon stared angrily at Wilbur. "Yes, it's regret, because I _know_ it would have been helpful. You can't see it right now because you're still in high school, but there's going to come a time when you're going to wish you had a degree because not having one is limiting. Very limiting. What can I do with my life other than trucking?"

"You could actually put your heart into your racing instead of deciding you'd fail before you start," pointed out Wilbur.

"For what? The rest of my life?" asked Sharon. "Gonna retire on a superbike pension? Oh, wait, no, there is no such thing! There's a few years a racing and then twenty to forty as the manager of a Taco Bell!"

"Oh, I see. This is about Herman," said Wendell.

Sharon covered her face with her hands and sighed. "This is not about Herman," she muttered.

"Then why bring up the ol' Bell?" said Wendell. "If not to say, 'watch out! You may become your screwed up older brother!'"

"It's not about Herman!" said Sharon, raising her arms into the air. "This is about leaving options for yourself. It'll never get any easier to get a degree than right after high school. Don't waste the opportunity."

"Easy enough if Wilbur gets a scholarship," said Wendell. "I'm not going to get any scholarship on skateboarding. What did you expect me to do? Take a loan? That seems more risky in this economy than going to Vegas."

Sharon dropped her hands to her sides. "I'll pay."

"What?" asked Wendell.

"I'll help pay for your college," said Sharon. She looked to Wilbur. "Both of you, if you need it. I don't need the money, it's just going to waste on me. This is _important_."

Wilbur sighed slowly then stepped up and softly put his hands on Sharon's shoulders. "It's important to _you_."

"It will be important to you someday," said Sharon emphatically.

"You can't know that," said Wilbur. "Do we strike you as unhappy?"

Sharon looked sadly between the two. "I can't see how you can be," she whispered.

Wilbur's eyes went wide and he stepped slightly back. "Wow, sis."

"Shar," said Wendell. "You've got some _problems_ – I mean, we all got them, but you can't let them dominate you. I mean, look at me. I've been in this wheelchair more than I've been out of it in my life. But I'm not just going to resign myself to sitting down."

Sharon sighed again. "That's not what this is about—"

"No, but it is," said Wilbur. "We're _not_ unhappy, sis. Right, Wendell?"

"Right," nodded Wendell. "And if we make choices that turn out not to be great, then we'll live with that and make new ones."

"But we aren't going to blame ourselves for making them," said Wilbur. "After all we've been through, you gotta agree, sis, that there was a certain degree of helplessness to the situation we were in. We're _past_ that now, and we're ready to take control. We don't need you to be our safety net."

"More than that, we don't _want_ you to protect us," said Wendell.

"It's not protection," said Sharon. "It's just money going to waste with me."

"Then don't let it go to waste," said Wendell.

"Use it, Sharon," said Wilbur with a smile. "Dad's gone. Herman's out of the picture. Mel and Zita are happy, and we're going to make our own way soon. You don't have to be the hero anymore. Time to make yourself happy."

"Easy for you to say," said Sharon, and then she hesitated. "I'm sorry, that was pretty insensitive. You guys have had the roughest—"

"No!" said Wendell abruptly. "It IS easy to say. God, sis, how do you view us? Just because I'm in this chair _right__now_ doesn't mean I'm helpless. It's easy to say because we make it easy. Why do you think someone needs to give you permission to take things easy?"

"Look," said Sharon simply. She looked kindly at her brothers. "I know you want me to be happy, and I don't need permission. I mean, I'm not _stuck_ in trucking, I like it. I don't use the money because I don't need it to be happy."

"You're happy," said Wendell, skeptically.

"I'm content," amended Sharon. "Happiness is harder, but I'm working on it."

Wilbur put his hands on his hips. "How?"

"What?" asked Sharon.

"How are you working on it?" asked Wilbur. "Does it involve making doe-eyes at our sister-in-law?"

Sharon stared.

"Yeah, you're not being subtle about that," said Wilbur.

"Never really were subtle at all about that," said Wendell. "Remember Sam?"

"You mean the way she tried to tell Mom she was 'studying' with her," chuckled Wilbur. "Yeah, nobody bought that."

Sharon rubbed her temples.

"Give it up, sis," said Wendell. "That's a lost battle already."

"I wasn't trying to steal Zita from my brother," said Sharon.

"No, not trying," said Wendell.

"Hoping, it looked like," said Wilbur.

"Maybe wishing _really_ hard," said Wendell.

"All right, I get it already," said Sharon.

"You travel all over the country, sis," said Wilbur. "Go meet someone new. So what if it's not built to last, at least have fun."

"I know how to have fun," said Sharon.

"Oh, we know," said Wilbur.

"Yeah, Sam was not at all quiet," said Wendell.

"It's amazing it took Dad as long as it did to find out," said Wilbur.

The thought of their father - and what he actually did when he _did_ find out - suddenly sobered the conversation and the trio was silent for several moments.

Wendell eventually broke the stillness. "All we're saying, sis, is... thank you."

Sharon blinked. "What?"

"Thanks, sis," said Wilbur. "For everything you did to keep us safe."

"We wouldn't have made it without you," said Wendell.

"Y-you're welcome," Sharon said awkwardly.

Wendell and Wilbur came up to her and gave her a hug.

"Now leave us alone and go find yourself a girl," said Wendell with a smile.

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Sharon stared at the manifest she was provided.

"Los Angeles?" she asked as she signed her name on the carbon. "Straight through, no stops?"

The loading dock manager nodded to her. "You never don't long haul before?"

"Er, yeah, actually, I've done a lot of it. Just not recently," admitted Sharon.

"Then I don't see the problem," said the man. He scratched his head and then tore off a receipt and handed it to Sharon. "There's your address, there's your date, and on the back is the contract. You got any problems, call Stoppable on the other end."

"Ron Stoppable?" asked Sharon.

"Yeah, I guess," shrugged the man. "I don't get a full name. His number's on the form if you need 'em." The man cleared his throat loudly and reached into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. "Need anything else?"

"Nah, I guess not," said Sharon. She thanked the man and headed back towards the front of her rig. She climbed back into the cab and laid out her maps, jotting down notes that helped plot her course.

Three and half days it should take, she figured. She could get it down to two with her physiology, but either way that was a heck of a long drive in the silence through empty Midwest highways. She rarely considered boredom in her trips except when it was racing season, but after her conversation with her younger brothers a few nights ago, it was starting to weigh on her. There was little to do between Chicago and Columbus as that was only a one day trip. But all the way to LA? That was going to result in some seriously unwelcome self-reflection unless she found a way to distract herself

But what would distract her all the way to LA and still not slow her down?

Sharon pulled the rig onto the highway and started heading West on I-70 towards Dayton. There weren't even that many major places to stop on the path she'd charted, and she idly contemplated taking a less efficient path just to run through some places she knew would be fun, like Albuquerque where Riley worked, or Las Vegas to visit the Cross again. They'd just be minor distractions though. They'd do nothing to fill her thoughts in the interim.

As the sun set beneath the horizon in front of her, Sharon pushed her sun visor up and turned her lights on. She'd be coming up to the I-270 exchange and after that, over an hour of emptiness until she reached Dayton. For some reason, each mile marker seemed further and further apart.

Gah! Damn her brothers for putting such stupid thoughts in her head. She wasn't unhappy! She knew how to have fun. And she met new people from time to time! Even attractive ones!

Well, attractive ones that were typically taken, but still...

Sharon sighed. She did not want to think about this. She needed distraction _now_.

A flicker of white on the side of the road up ahead caught Sharon's eye as she drove. It looked like a person and it was waving at her. A hitchhiker, Sharon concluded.

A crazy thought ran through her head.

She turned on her hazard lights and slowed down, pulling onto the shoulder as she came up on the hitchhiker. She'd never picked up a hitchhiker before, but the idea of having someone else to distract her from her brother's stupid ideas was very enticing. Sharon rolled down the passenger window and looked out.

A younger girl, short, thin but with an athletic body peeking out from her coat was standing there. She had long, beautiful red hair, a cherub-like face, and had a bag slung over her shoulder. Sharon was momentarily stunned. This girl was incredibly cute.

"Hey, where you headin'?" Sharon asked.

The girl stared back at her and said nothing. Sharon wondered if she was just as surprised at her appearance as Sharon was of the pretty girl's. Most people assumed truckers were men, or very mannish looking women. Sharon prided herself on her appearance. Just because nobody typically cared about how a trucker looked didn't mean _she_ didn't care.

"Hey," Sharon said, a little flattered that she'd stunned this girl with her looks. "You alright?"

"You're... green," the girl said. Sharon was a little surprised by that statement. What did she mean? Green? She was wearing a green shirt, but that was hardly a surprising thing.

"I mean, in a green truck," the girl said.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Well, doy," she said. Alright, so the girl is a little empty headed, there had to be a trade-off to her cute looks. "But I'm fairly certain you could have seen that before I opened the window," she added with a smirk. "It's my favorite color. Is that a problem for you?"

The girl blinked deliberately and then started shaking her head. "No! Uh, no, of course not. I like green too, actually." Hmm, a good sign. "I'm sorry. I'm heading to Los Angeles. Are you... going in that direction?"

Sharon fought the urge to let her grin dominate her entire face. What luck! This girl is going all the way to LA, _and_ is pretty cute to boot. This couldn't have been a better idea. "It's your lucky day, then. That's where I'm heading too. Climb in!" She pulled on the latch and let the passenger door swing open. The girl climbed nimbly into the cab, demonstrating the athleticism Sharon suspected the girl had.

Taking a deep breath, Sharon tried to calm herself. She was getting a little too ahead of herself. She'd been down this path before and gotten burned. She needed to be more cautious and cynical about this. She was always getting hurt because she was too easily taken—

"I'm Kim," the girl said. "Kim Possible."

Kim Possible? That's _so_ cute!

"I'm Sharon Hedge."

*** KP – KP – KP ***

Shego groaned at the heavy feeling on her chest and tried to look down at it. Her eyes were sluggish feeling, which was strange. She couldn't remember her _eyes_ ever being lazy before. In fact, her whole body felt like it was being smothered with a lead sheet and then another _heavier_ lead blanket was over her chest.

With effort she made her eyelids open and almost immediately regretted it. The bright sun was beaming directly into her eyeballs and felt like molten lava was being poured onto her face. She tried to raise a hand to block out the blazing sun but her arms were just as heavy as the rest of her body.

With deliberate effort, she managed to close her eyes and open them again. A blink. Possibly the slowest blink in history. She did it again to get used to the action - she figured blinking was something she was going to need more in the future. The more she blinked, the clearer the view got. It wasn't the sun that was above her, it was a small lamp embedded into the wall above her. A sconce, her mind supplied.

With methodical action, Shego swallowed to try and wet her parched throat but it made little difference. She needed a glass of water. Further effort was required to move her head to look around. Fortunately, the more she did the easier it was getting.

She didn't find a glass of water, but she noticed that the weight on her chest was actually that of another person lying on top of her. There was a girl there, her head on Shego's chest, eyes closed, with wild, gorgeous red hair splayed out over the blankets covering Shego's body. Her face looked scrunched up, like it was struggling under the weight of a thousand bricks on her shoulders.

The girl was actually sitting on a nearby chair but had slumped over across Shego's body and fallen asleep. It was cute. The girl was cute. Shego felt the desire to smile and decided it was a good one. Her lips turned up and she felt warmth in her cheeks.

Working out the routine in her head, Shego pulled her arm out from under the blanket and carefully brought it up to gently touch the girl's face. It felt warm, and soft. It felt nice... comforting. A name flittered up into Shego's consciousness but she rejected it. It wasn't right. There was a better word for this person, better than the name her mind had supplied.

"Princess," whispered Shego, hoarsely.

The girl stirred slightly, her face scrunching up even tighter for a moment before loosening. Shego wondered how worked up her Princess had gotten while she was out of it. She wondered how long she'd been out of it. It didn't seem to matter at the moment.

"Hey," Shego tried again, her voice still raspy, but slightly stronger.

The Princess' eyes suddenly shot open and met Shego's looking down at her. She looked surprised and shocked and stunned and other S-words that Shego couldn't think of at the moment. Then, to her surprise, the Princess's eyes started to well up and a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I-is this a dream?" Kim asked.

"Not mine," said Shego. She tried to swallow again. "Though, I could really use—"

Kim had moved faster than the speed of light to have her arms wrapped around Shego's neck and hugging her tightly. Maybe too tightly, in fact, as Shego felt a little pained, but the beating in her heart told her it was okay. This was what being alive was about. She smiled and wrapped her free hand around the Princess's back. She was ever thankful she picked up that wiry hitchhiker outside Columbus.

The girl shuddered in Shego's arms and she could hear her quietly sobbing in her ear. "Shhh," Shego hushed kindly. "It's O-"

But that was as far as she got because in the next instant, the Princess had pulled briefly away and then pressed her lips against Shego's.

Their faces were roughly smashed together, the Princess having moved too quickly and pinched their lips between their teeth. It was less of a kiss and more of an awkward head butt with their chins instead of foreheads. The Princess's sobbing hadn't exactly stopped either so she was still shuddering while they embraced.

But none of that mattered. Shego was kissing her Princess.

And it was the sweetest thing she'd ever known.

***End Part Six


	7. Azadi

**7. Azadi**

Shego stood over her baby girl lying in pieces on the floor of the motor lab at the Stingray Foundation. She'd never seen her girl in such a terrible state. It was more than a little disheartening. Shego herself had seen better days, of course. Her arm was currently in a sling and her leg in a brace forcing her to use a cane, to say nothing of her head. But she'd recover, Dr. McKullen had insisted that, her baby girl though...

"She'll live," came a voice from far behind her, followed by familiar click-clacks of heels on the concrete floor. Shego turned to see Sylia walking up with a stern look on her face. "We've got plenty of good mechanics here. They'll get her back together in no time."

Shego turned back to her bike. "Send her to Raven," she said.

"The doctor?" asked Sylia. She put a finger to her chin and tapped it idly. "I could probably do that. It'll take longer, though. No telling when he'll work on her as well."

"I can wait," nodded Shego. "She has a primary care physician and I'd like to make sure she gets back to him."

Sylia smiled and laughed lightly. "Very well, I'll have Linna box her up for you."

Shego nodded and then slowly turned away from her baby girl again. "I want something from you."

"Oh really?" said Sylia. She crossed her arms but still looked at her with a smile. "A hit to the head and you're all requests now."

"Feel free to decline," said Shego.

"I always do," said Sylia.

"Kim doesn't have any ID," said Shego.

"I've suspected as much," said Syila with a nod. "Why is that?"

"She has amnesia," said Shego. "No memory of her life before a certain point just before we met. She doesn't care who she was before then, but it has been an issue that she can't prove who she is now and what she knows."

"You see the contradiction there, right?" asked Syila.

"She IS Kim Possible, regardless of who she was," said Shego. She was trying to dance around this as best she could but it was hard when her opponent was the ever-too-crafty Sylia Stingray. "She needs to be able to prove to people that she is Kim Possible."

"And you want me to help her do that," said Sylia.

"If you can," said Shego. "I have no idea how you go about that, and I don't want to ask Nene and have her get in trouble."

"But its okay for me to get in trouble?" asked Sylia, an eyebrow arched.

"You seem... adept at getting out of trouble."

Sylia looked back at her with a smile that seemed to say 'you have no idea how right you are.' At least to Shego's eyes.

"Fortunately, there is a legal method of doing that," said Sylia. "With no history it's a little trickier, but there are means of getting ID and a Social for someone who has slipped through the system up to adulthood. There are occasionally children that come out of closed communes who have never been identified to the government, we can use that path with Kim."

"So you'll help?" asked Shego. "I just want to be clear."

"I'll help you," said Sylia slowly. "But in exchange you have to be honest with me."

Shego narrowed her eyes. "About what?"

"Why now?" asked Sylia. "You've been traveling with her for months."

"She wants to get a job," said Shego. "She needs ID."

"And it has nothing to do with a desire you have to someday stand before a court with her?" asked Sylia.

Shego scowled at Syila. "You are—"

"Doing you a favor," interrupted Sylia. "And I have conditions. I'm quirky like that."

Shego sighed. "That is not my direct intent," she said. "But it would be nice to have the possibility some day."

"So she finally accepted you?" asked Sylia.

"You realize you are blackmailing me."

"It's not blackmail," said Sylia. "It's... contract negotiations." Shego eyed her suspiciously. "You don't exactly make it easy to be your friend," added Syila.

"You don't want to be my friend," said Shego. "You want to get in my pants."

"I can have multiple motivations," said Sylia. "And I'm not cruel. If your heart is set on Possible, then I'm not going to tell you otherwise."

"Really," said Shego flatly.

"Even I can admit that things are different now than when we first met," said Sylia. "So, you were saying about you and Kim?"

Shego sighed. "If we must get into this... yes. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"She's still pretty sure she's mostly straight," said Shego. "But she wants to 'see where things go.'"

"Sounds ambiguous," said Sylia.

"It's not," said Shego shortly. "We are a couple. We may not be sexually attracted to the same gender, however."

"Which is typically a starting point for a lesbian relationship," said Sylia.

"Only in a jaded world," said Shego.

"Which you suddenly don't live in?" asked Sylia.

"Hrm," grumbled Shego. She looked anywhere other than at Sylia. "Love and sex are separate. It's nice when they agree, but it _apparently_ is not always the case."

Sylia touched Shego's cheek gently and guided her face back to look at her. "Well, if you ever need a sexual partner, you know where to find me," she said softly.

"You really have no shame, do you?" asked Shego.

"I just don't like to lie to myself," said Sylia. She smiled and removed her hand.

Sylia turned on her heel and started heading back out of the labs. "I'll get started on the paperwork to give Kim her new identity. And I'll tell Raven to expect a package in the mail."

With a couple dozen click-clacks, Sylia was gone and Shego found herself alone again with her bike.

In the quiet loneliness of the garage, Shego allowed herself to smile.

"Fun, isn't it, baby girl?"

*** Fin.

A/N: Too much "epic-ness" has worked its way into this story. I am not pleased. It always gets hard for me to write when I am juggling too many motivations. I'm going to try and thin that out a bit. I had a plan for Shego-in-a-coma storyline, but didn't have much of a plan for Kim and Sylia waiting in the hospital. So I wrote whatever came to mind. That... has gotten me into trouble.

Based on the feedback I got from the question I posted in chapter 5 I'm pushing off the stuff I intended to write for Hitchhiker 4 a bit to spend more time on Kim and Shego's budding relationship. But as a result, I don't have it written up yet! So, things may go south. I have no idea. I also have no preview to share this time.

The Hitchhiker 4 begins November 1st! (Er, at least I hope it does.)

Kim Possible, Shego, James Possible, Ann Possible, Senior Senior Senior, Senior Senior Junior, Vivian Porter, Hirotaka, Yori, and Zita Flores are all from Disney's KimPossible. Sylia Stingray, Linna Yamazaki, Nene Romanova, Priss Asagiri, Leon McNichol, Daley Wong, Brian Mason, Fargo, and Dr. Raven are from ARTMIC/Youmex's BubblegumCrisis. All characters and situations are presented in a modified format inspired by their original published appearances.

Additional information was obtained from Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. I know it's sometimes inaccurate, but it's a good for figuring out the basics of a topic so you know where to look next.

I continue to know almost nothing about league motorcycle racing, long haul trucking, or medical diagnosis (especially neurosurgery), and made almost everything up. Forgive me. :)

If you enjoyed this story please check out my other Kim Possible and Bubblegum Crisis works at Fanfictiondotnet under the username TempestDash. My opinions about television, movies, video games, and life in general are also available on my blog at rogue-penguindotcom. Also check out my weekly podcast at TheTITANShowdotcom where I talk about nothing with my co-host, Matt, and sometimes a guest or two.


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